


Who Could Ask For Anything More?

by fabricdragon



Series: Complex Like Math, Smooth Like Jazz [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Jim Moriarty, Alpha/Omega, Canon-Typical Violence, Conversations, Courtship, Dancing, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, Mathematics, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Jim Moriarty, Secret Relationship, Tags May Change, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, from other charachters not the main pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: Alpha Jim Moriarty was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes- trying to find a solution to a lack in his life... an emptiness that often threatened to overwhelm him.  so what if they were both Alphas? no one else ever seemed to understand him...not really...until he was forced to take a second look at Mycroft Holmes.The same story from Part 1-3 of this series, but from Jim's POV...





	1. Tea For Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/gifts).



Jim had forced himself to put up with the day–it was getting more and more difficult not to simply rip these idiots apart.  The boredom was honestly worse than anything else: not one of these idiots was worth his time, except for the Iceman.   

 _Bored, Bored, Bored–pain– annoyance, Bored_. Jim occupied himself alternately fantasizing about running off with Sherlock and thinking about how many pieces to leave him in. It was becoming obvious, now that he had the time to think–too much time to think– that Sherly really wasn’t… he was so…

_Anyway he was an Alpha, and that was a disaster waiting to happen, wasn’t it?_

_At least it wouldn’t be boring…_

Mycroft would have to come down today… sure enough they put him in the room with the supposedly secure chair and left him. _Note to self: do not break the handcuff, even if you get REALLY bored_.  Really it was a shame the Iceman was so very dull–every now and then you got a glimmer of wit, but otherwise he was just…all buttoned up.

He came in with that adorable wrinkle between his eyebrows that meant he had a headache again.  Jim was honestly beginning to feel sorry for the man–he apparently didn’t have a life other than being in intelligence and chasing after Sherlock. _He’d probably thaw a bit if he got laid more, maybe I could sic Irene on him?_  

Jim rolled his head back in the chair without opening his eyes much–the lights bothered him these days. “Hello Mister Holmes… how kind of you to visit.”

“You look unwell, James, perhaps I should come back another time?”

 _James, is it?_   Jim dropped his voice into a seductive purr. “I’m not going to look any better while I’m here… Mycroft.” Mycroft shuddered. “You know what I want.”

“You know I don’t want to give it to you.”

“… but you will, Mycroft,” Jim smiled and Mycroft almost fled the room.  He was less and less controlled every time he came down–the pressure to give in must be devastating by now.

 _How odd that I had started by wanting to seduce Sherly-locks, and now I wanted to destroy them both… except…_ Mycroft… seemed to have some hidden depths. _Well I suppose he couldn’t be as boring as he seemed–no one could: there had to be some  level of absolute boring… like zero…_ he occupied himself with  graphing the values of boring in his head.

…

He was taken to the room far more gently than usual, and left with an arm unchained and the usual bottle of drugged water.  He knew as soon as Mycroft walked in that this was it– _he was going to give me what I wanted.  Perhaps I will go back to wanting to keep Sherlock… no… maybe… it was so unbearably boring… so dull… Sebastian was right–it wasn’t worth it…_

_Nothing was worth it. Nothing was worth anything some days…_

“Decided to come to tea?”  Jim laughed, _poor Iceman_

“You win.”

“I always win, darling. Want to get rid of this drugged water and get some real tea?”

Mycroft sighed, took the bottle and came back with two cups and a thermos– _that was his own thermos, I wonder what kind of tea he drinks? Boring probably._ He poured for them both.

Jim took a sip of his tea and was pleasantly surprised to find it perfectly brewed– _well that wasn’t entirely a surprise, the Iceman was very uptight and precise_ – but also lightly spiced. “Oh that’s… that’s niiice…” he looked up at Mycroft and teased, “Have you ever considered being kind, Mycroft?”

“What?”

“Kind? It’s a word… you catch more flies with honey, you know.”

“You’re not a fly.”

“No, I’m the spider.”

Mycroft unexpectedly got up and walked over behind Jim– _Was he going to actually dirty his hands on me? Try to hurt me where everyone else had failed?_ Jim just closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

“You look feverish.” Mycroft’s voice was softer than he expected.

“I feel feverish.” _I’d assumed that was your drugs… I so rarely get sick… but you sound concerned? It must be a trick._ “Why don’t you call me James anymore, don’t you like me?”

Mycroft touched Jim’s forehead with his cool hands–not quite as soft and un-calloused as they looked–“No, I don’t like you.”

“A pity,” Jim brought his free hand up and grabbed Mycroft’s wrist, “You’re growing on me, you know, Mycroft.”

 _Oddly… he was._   Well that was probably a side effect of the drugs or just being ill–or maybe being the only one worth talking to.  It would pass as soon as he was out of here.  He brought Mycroft’s hand to his mouth and started kissing Mycroft’s fingers: Mycroft shuddered and tried to pull away. _Interesting?  This was bothering him? This was getting to him?_   I guess all that icy armor was chipping under the strain… Jim sucked on his fingers and teased him– _he… actually had very nice hands: both the Holmes boys did._

 “DO stop that.”  And marvel of marvels Mycroft‘s voice shook.

“Why Mycroft… is the Iceman finally melting?”

“Go back to calling me Mister Holmes; besides, you wanted to talk about my brother.”

 _Well, yes, but… what IS under all that tweed?_ “Myyyycroft…but we were becoming such FRIENDS _…” in between you contemplating having me killed of course, but that’s half the fun._

Jim licked at the pulse in Mycroft’s wrist and…time… slowed…as he realized…

_Omega.  That’s what that oh so faint undertone to Mycroft’s cologne was… Omega… but… Mycroft?! Mycroft the iceman? Mycroft the buttoned up boring…_

_hiding…_

_the  formality…_

_the control…_

_He was an Omega?  In POLITICS?_

_My opposite number… the Holmes that had ACTUALLY been able to…oppose…me…_

_Mycroft… the older stuffy brother…the boring one…_

_Oh, oh, oh… he was ANYTHING but boring!_

Jim carefully let go of his hand and closed his eyes, waiting until Mycroft retreated to the other side of the table. “Tell me Mister Holmes, are the recordings off?”

Mycroft sounded relieved. “Thank you for going back to formality, and yes, they are.”

“You asked. I’d do anything you asked, Mister Holmes.” _An Omega… an Omega worth TALKING to? Someone… who could keep up with me? Who wouldn’t bore me to tears in a few days?_

 “Hardly! I want the plans and you won’t give them to us.”

“Ahhh… but that’s it, isn’t it?” he held out his cup for more tea, buying time, trying to think. “I hardly consider beatings, sleep deprivation and so on to be ASKING, Mister Holmes– its poor hospitality, if nothing else.”

“So if we asked–”

“No.  Not if ‘we’ asked, Mister Holmes: if YOU asked.” Jim looked up at Mycroft hungrily– _was it possible…? he’d lost all hope of Sherlock, but was it POSSIBLE…?_ “I said I’d do anything you asked– not your superiors, or the Prime Minister, or Lady Smallwood… you.”

Mycroft laughed a bit nervously. “I came down to give you what you wanted, Moriarty–”

 _I’m not in the slightest interested anymore._ “Oh, do please call me James, or Jim if you prefer.”

“I despise nicknames.”

“Now see? That’s better: now I know something about you– you despise nicknames. What’s your favorite equation?”

“What?” Mycroft was blinking adorably.

“Asking you your favorite color would be boooring, besides it’s green: what’s your favorite equation?”

He snapped, “Lyapunov's second method for stability.”

 _No… he just picked something obscure because he thought I didn’t understand… but it’s related to his real answer_. _Dynamic Systems–he likes dynamic systems?!… he’s actually read his mother’s papers and understood them: how did I overlook you.._.  Jim watched Mycroft’s pale eyes–not the blue of Sherlock’s but a grey green that was quite pleasant– slowly turn dark: Jim looked down and Mycroft’s hands clutched at his tea cup.

“Really? Well I suppose it makes sense you would be interested in dynamic systems, but I thought the Margulis conjecture…”

Mycroft almost gasped– _a hit, a most palpable hit_ – “What… what would a common criminal know about–”

“I’m an UNcommon criminal, darling, and I have a degree in mathematics… among other things. I had no idea we were so… compatible.” _Never… never in a million years… I never even dreamed…_

“We aren’t.” Mycroft didn’t even sound convinced.

“Oh I think we are, Mister Holmes. The Collatz problem.”

Mycroft blinked, “You… actually studied mathematics?”

“Yes.”

“I went to Oxford for political studies, but I minored…”

 _In statistics… oh… oh you poor repressed thing you…“_ Your mother’s textbook is quite good.”

Mycroft stiffened, “Leave her out–”

“I’m not going to cause her any problems, Mister Holmes,” Jim reached a hand across the table and took Mycroft’s wrist gently, “I’ve simply read her book– it was lovely, although I prefer her paper on The Hadamard conjecture.” _And I discounted you… I could have missed this entirely… I shall have to re think everything…_

Mycroft didn’t try to pull his wrist away, “You’ve… actually read that?”

“Yes.” Jim pulled Mycroft’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles in apology for being so wrong. “I had no idea you were interested in the topic, Mister Holmes.” _Or interesting at all, really._

“That’s… more information on you than we had… why tell me?”

“I admit,” he reluctantly set Mycroft’s hand back down on the table, “I was blinded by my interest in your brother– I hadn’t realized I should have been paying attention to you…There’s a jazz performance that should be in a week, if I have not entirely lost track of the time, I’ll take you.”

“I prefer classical.” Mycroft’s protest was weak.

“No, you LIKE classical, so do I, but with that being your favorite theorem?  Jaazzzzz….” He couldn’t help but lean into it and tease–just a little.

“You think you’ll be out of here in a week?” Mycroft tried for some bluster, but… _he was looking at me differently_.

“I think I’ll be out of here tonight, Mister Holmes.” He started to stretch and ended up yanking against the cuff–almost snapped it. “You actually turned off all the recordings? Why?” A momentary worry that Mycroft knew… knew he was an Alpha… knew he had given up any thoughts of family when he was just a child…

“You wanted information on my brother: I don’t want anyone else having it.”

“Fair enough,” No _, you aren’t trying to seduce me away from your brother–you aren’t trying, but you have…_ “I’m not interested in Sherlock anymore, Mister Holmes; you’re much more… interesting.”

“Why?” Mycroft sounded bewildered.

“I admit I hadn’t thought of you having such an interest in mathematics… and you always seemed so…dull.” He chuckled, “it’s a good disguise.”

“What makes me suddenly not dull?” Mycroft sounded… a little sad–he glanced up at Mycroft’s eyes and... _Sherlock was so very vibrant, and pretty, and needed so much…and…you were always hiding behind your pocketwatch and your ice._

 “Unlock me? Please?”

“What? Why?”

“Because I asked you nicely.” _Out of tea. God I missed tea… Sebastian was right this was a stupid plan, but I never would have found out if I hadn’t… so it’s a brilliant plan.  I still miss tea, and my bed, and I would murder someone for a steak dinner_.

“I want the codes.”

“Ask ME nicely.” Jim answered reflexively.

“I would like the codes, which we have been–”

“Ah-ah, Mister Holmes, YOU… not we.”

Mycroft took a deep breath and swayed in his seat: he looked faint…  Jim snapped the restraints without a second thought and caught him before he could hit his head on the concrete.  He smelled so nice… _wait… the scent of Omega was too strong… Oh… Oh… I was feverish…sweating, and I licked him… Oh my God I LICKED an un-bonded Omega?  He’s going into Heat…I’ll go into a Rut…_

“Where are your medicines, Mister Holmes?” Jim tried to keep the panic out of his voice.

“What?”

“Mycrooooffft…. Do you keep your medicine in your office?” _It must be in his office_.

“Yes? But I don’t get dizzy… I don’t have medicine for that, just headaches… and other things.”

Jim dithered for a moment: touching him more, being close, was NOT going to help… but… _If his office knew I would have known… there wasn’t a hint… so no one else knew…_

Jim helped him to his feet and walked him out the door: Mycroft leaning on him, his body pressing against his own. “You are very tall,” Jim commented, trying to keep his mind on facts, and practical things instead of the increasing urge to pick Mycroft up and run away with him. “I hadn’t realized that you are actually taller than Sherlock.”

“By an inch…” Mycroft answered, then, “Am I hallucinating?”

“While it’s always possible, I don’t think so, why?” Three doorways, left turn, wait for the guard to make his circuit…

“You’re loose, and helping me walk to my office.”

“That’s not a hallucination; that’s being polite.”

“You’re not polite!” Mycroft sounded more alert for a moment.

“I can be…” _I’m GOING To be… don’t fuck this UP Moriarty–you’ll never get another chance._

As they got to his office Mycroft leaned into him further and blinked at him a bit woozily. “I think I may have caught your fever, James…”

 _I could get to like being called James…_ “Thank you for calling me James, may I call you Mycroft?’

“Yes…”

“I think you may be right, Mycroft.”

Jim put him down on his sofa  as gently as he could and started carefully searching the room.  He found the suppressant pills easily enough, but the shot?  He started the process of breaking into the computer system while he was searching… _huh_ …He couldn’t find it… _better to get the pill into him now  and then find out where the shot was. My head was clearer in a room with better air circulation, but this was still not safe._

Mycroft was dozing on the sofa–he looked… he looked younger.  He didn’t look like the Iceman at all right now, and when Jim tried to help him to sit up to take the pill Mycroft smiled at him.  Jim actually froze for a moment as that small tentative hopeful smile nearly took him to his knees.  _My Omega… No, no he wasn’t…  and if I tried to rush him_ … Jim gave him the pill and helped him sip at the water.

Once he’d taken the pill Jim asked him where the shot was, but he seemed confused. “The emergency suppressant shot… the one that takes you out of heat instantly– the side effects are horrible, I know, but I can’t find it.”

Mycroft looked terrified and whispered, “I don’t have one.”

 _He didn’t HAVE… Smart people were so STUPID sometimes_. “Tch…”  

He cleared the hallways between the office and medical, and worried: Mycroft was tossing on the sofa a bit and sweating badly… he was starting to make the unhappy noises that reminded him too much of… _things you don’t have time for right now_.  He had only meant to get a suppressant shot out of medical…

“What the hell do you mean you don’t have one in medical, Mycroft! This is sloppy!”  He looked around the empty medical rooms with a frown.  _What kind of interrogation facility doesn’t have Heat suppressant… right, he’s hiding the fact that he’s one so he probably never dared suggest it…_

He found the Alpha suppressants though.  He considered the state he was in and gave himself a quarter dose… _still that should keep my mind clear._ He got a guard uniform out of the laundry and a wheelchair from medical and went back to Mycroft’s office.

“I’d carry you, Mycroft but I’m not in very good shape right now.” Jim commented idly while he helped him into the wheelchair… _I mean, you’re mostly responsible for that, so it would only be fair if I dropped you, but… that won’t help me court you_.

Mycroft was shivering and rigid… fearful where he hadn’t been before…Jim was just about to ask him what was wrong when he suddenly said, “If you have any decency you’ll cut my throat.”

“What?!”

“Were you planning on selling me or keeping me prisoner? I don’t know how you figured it out, or even know about Omega suppressants… Oh… criminal contacts, of course…”

 _Oh… oh no, of course he thought that_ … Jim brushed his hair back and kept his voice gentle and as soothing as possible. “No, Mycroft, I’m just taking you to medical for a tranquilizer. I had to use your computer to clear the floor: by the time you wake up the pill should have done its work.”

Mycroft was curled into himself trying not to shake… _he must be so scared–I never thought of him being scared_.  Jim tried to move quickly and stripped him out of his jacket, vest, and shirt- _yes he was a bit dehydrated as well, but not enough to need an IV– might be a good idea for me, though.._  

Mycroft looked up at him with this resigned and confused look… and he was so awfully feverish looking and miserable. “How did you get loose?” he asked, looking at his wrist.

“Poor darling, you must be out of it not to realize… you’ll feel better in the morning.” Jim gave him the shot and watched as the tension left him, and then almost held his breath as Mycroft Holmes slowly leaned into him and reached an arm around his waist.

Jim settled him back in the wheelchair, although it almost hurt to move him away. He reluctantly gave himself a bag of fluid, and then disposed of all the evidence and cleaned up. “I’m going to take you back to your office…” Mycroft looked more comfortable at least and wasn’t whimpering.

Jim got him back up to the office, and… _no, better not to strip him out of his pants–he might misunderstand_.  He folded everything up and put his phone in to charge... and considered.

“They’ll be angry at YOU if you don’t get anything for letting me go, and we can’t have that… also I have no idea how much of this you will remember when you wake up.” 

After considering things Jim left a note on his desktop, and a folder with all the codes and things he had been angling for… Possibly a bit more, it was hard to remember what they’d wanted… _oh; right… with the Alpha suppressant in effect I’m… losing a bit._

He looped the cameras and called one of his people to pick up a contact from the building–they didn’t know who he was after all. 

He leaned over and kissed Mycroft on the forehead. “I am going to be the best Alpha for you, Mycroft.” _Damn, I already messed this up… I wasn’t supposed to get any more saliva on him… well at least it was just a dry kiss…_

_How do you court Mycroft Holmes, anyway?  All of my flirting had been aimed at Sherlock… I don’t think Mycroft likes an exciting murder…_

Jim fell asleep in the taxi, trying to figure it out. 

 


	2. Everybody Needs A Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian desperately needs a cue card... and a drink... and a smoke...  
> (a different take on Sebastian)

The guard was trying to haul him to his feet–really sleep deprivation was so primitive… _wait…Mycroft, Omega, walking out, taxi?_

“Waking me up unnecessarily is a death penalty offense…” Jim mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah, sure it is–so is getting your tea wrong and letting you fall asleep in your suits.” Sebastian grumbled and hauled him up against a pile of pillows. “You’re dehydrated, and too thin, and I have no idea what they gave you.”

“It’s on the thumb drive.” Jim pried his eyes open and held his hands out greedily for the coffee. Sebastian couldn’t make a decent cup of tea to save his life, but he lived on coffee.

“Thumb drive? I didn’t look for one–and no coffee until you drink some electrolytes and keep them down.”  Sebastian handed him a bottle and walked away.

“Hey! This is the bad flavor! Get me the good flavor!”

“Fuck you.” he called back in a distracted fashion from the other room.

Jim sipped the– _ugh_ –electrolytes. “I’ll have you know I gave myself a bag of saline before I came home!”

Sebastian came back with the thumb drive. “I don’t believe you–that would be sensible.” He snorted and brought the coffee over, along with the small plate of breakfast.

“I’m not hungry, I just want coffee…”

“Eat it or I’ll buy nothing but decaf.” He was holding the coffee out of reach.

“Hah! Empty threat, Moran; you couldn’t live without your caffeine.” He reluctantly took a bite of the eggs–Sebastian probably would buy decaf, and just go out to get his fix.

He ate quietly and made faces until Sebastian gave him his coffee. “Sweet blessed nectar…” Jim muttered into the cup, “You aren’t tea, but you’ll do…”

“You mean it isn’t hot chocolate.” Sebastian snorted and pulled a chair up.

“Shhh, don’t talk about my wife in front of my mistresses.”

Sebastian pulled a bar of salted hazelnut chocolate out of a pocket and unwrapped it slowly, “So… are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to play dirty?”

“Moran… I will skin you…” Jim judged the distance between them. “I’m still faster and stronger even in bad shape…”

“Sure you are.” Sebastian broke off a square and handed it to him. “First one’s free–talk.”

Jim lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes, savoring the chocolate… then he was being poked by Sebastian. “What?”  He cracked open an eye.

“You... fell asleep… without getting the rest of your chocolate.” Sebastian was glowering at him. “I’ll be back in two hours to check on you with more fluids.”

“But chocolate…” Jim whined and tried to reach after him… _nah, too much trouble_. Thud.

…

“Well at least they still think you’re a Beta.” Sebastian was saying as he dragged him out of the blankets and made him drink more.

“Where’s my coffee…?”

“You drank it.”

“…did not…”

…

“Why do I have to get up?” Jim tried to grab the blankets but Sebastian–the fiend– just dragged him out of bed blankets and all.

“Because you stink.”

Jim sniffed the blanket… _ugh… oh… if I can smell myself it must be bad_ … he let Sebastian half carry him to the shower. “I may get a bit panicky if my head goes under.” Jim muttered.

“I… will… kill them.” Sebastian spat out as he was holding him up in the shower. “Right after I murder you for this IDIOTIC idea.”

“…it was a stupid idea, but… it came out better than I hoped…”

Sebastian refused to discuss it until after they ate–which made sense.  After he was showered and changed into casuals Sebastian had the meal brought up– _steak_!–and  then the bastard opened a bottle of beer in front of him and put down a glass of water and a bottle of electrolytes.

“That’s just cruelty, Sebie.”

“You deserve a lot worse than that.” He grumbled, “Business has been going to hell, I’ve been worried sick…”

“You didn’t have to worry, Seb, I was ok…”

“Did you see yourself when you got home?  No?  Good thing I took pictures then–and you didn’t even wake up with the shutter click!”

Jim winced, “I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.  Or when I peeled you out of that guard’s uniform.”

“I must have realized it was you?”

Sebastian hesitated, “Maybe… but… you muttered ‘Mycroft’ a lot.  Seriously, Jimmy, I can drop him the next time he leaves that fortress he calls an office.”

“NO!  no!  no one hurts Mycroft!”  Jim stared at him in panic. “My plans are totally different now!  Mycroft is off limits!  Absolutely off limits!”

Sebastian stared at him… “Mycroft Holmes is off limits…?”

“Absolutely!  I may be meeting him… oh , uh… tomorrow? Day after? For a jazz concert.”

“ooookay Jimmy, I’m calling the chemistry boys: I have no idea what they gave you, but–”

“It’s on the thumb drive, Sebastian!”

“Why would you be meeting Mycroft Holmes for a jazz concert?”

“Because I invited him?”

“Jimmy… I want you to get a full checkup and a blood test…”

“Well, not a bad idea, but… look, I have my reasons!  I need to find out  if my new plan will work, so … I need to see him when… well when I’m not sleep deprived and out of it!  That’s all…”

“And you are totally NOT going to see him anywhere until after you get a blood test, and we check with your spies to make sure they didn’t do anything to your brain!”

“You…” _It wasn’t unreasonable_.  Jim sighed, “Fine. Call the doctor, and let me try to catch up on business, okay?  Meanwhile I want TEA… real tea.  So either let me into the kitchen to make a proper cup or order me tea… also do you have any cinnamon? I think Mycroft makes his tea with a light dose of cinnamon and ginger.”

Sebastian just stared at him and then walked out.  After a while he came back with take-out tea and Jim’s laptop. “Doctor will be here in a couple hours.  Oh, some new client has been trying to reach you… they keep raising their bid.”

“Really?” Jim looked the contact bids over and grinned… “OooHhhh!  This would be playing right against Mycroft!”

“Uh… is that… bad?”

“Nooo… not really…” _a pretty murder wouldn’t get his attention, but this? This was right up his ally…_ Jim requested a higher fee. “This is perfect, Seb!  It will really let me show off!”

“Uh… sure?  Oh, and the report on Sherlock’s activities came in…”

Jim waved him off, “Unimportant–go over it and make sure nothing too radical is going on.”

“Sherlock’s activities… are unimportant?  Uh… Jimmy…you’re scaring me…”

“You didn’t like me getting obsessed with him anyway.” Jim said planning how to handle this… _it had to be showy, no… clever…  subtle!  And… impressive…_

“No, I didn’t. I thought it was a horrible idea… but since when are you suddenly NOT obsessed with the detective?”

“Since I found out his brother is secretly fascinating…”

“… oh Jaysus Christ, Jimmy…”

…

Once the doctor finished nattering on about dehydration and kidneys and all that idiocy, and Jim had accepted the –much larger– fee for handling the complete disaster they’d made, he sent Mycroft an email:

_Dear Mycroft,_

_I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule our date for tomorrow as I just got hired by your opponents to clean up their ridiculous mess._

_… Of course that IS more our kind of date, isn’t it?_

_James_

Jim fidgeted at his desk and sipped his tea–not quite the same spices that Mycroft used, he would have to work on that.  After not very long he got a reply:

_Dear James,_

_Indeed, I believe it may be. I’m afraid I shall dismantle the operation in any case._

_Sincerely,_

_Mycroft Holmes_

“YES!  It’s a date!  He called it a date, Sebastian!” _And replied with my first name…_

“The fuck?”  Sebastian walked up and read over his shoulder.  “Seriously, Jimmy?  You have seriously gotten interested in Mycroft?!  I mean admittedly he dresses well, but….seriously? He’s a monster!”

“He is not!” Jim said huffily, “I’ve gotten to understand him a lot better…he’s… shy, and a bit insecure… and all that ice is just a defense mechanism.”

“He’s shy?  Mycroft Holmes?  Ginger ish? Receding hairline?  Pulling the strings behind half of our business losses?”

“We’ve done business with him before, through proxies–you know that.”

“Jimmy you have lost your mind…”

“If you ever thought I was sane, Moran, I can’t help you.”

“…no,” he sighed, “not really.  Look, Jimmy… I know you have some trouble with this concept, but… Mycroft isn’t going to play games with you–he’ll just throw you back in a cell.”

“He will not.” Jim started working out moves, and plans… after he was certain he sent an email with a challenge:

_Mycroft,_

_I’m operating at a disadvantage since they already ~~fucked up~~ made so many horrible moves, but…_

_Mate in ten._

_James_

Jim grinned and got to work.  This was MUCH more fun than those silly murders with Sherly–and more profitable too.

“Seb?  Gonna need you to shoot someone…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veHpPG-Wcy8 (Norah Jones "everybody needs a best friend" jazz song)


	3. Some Other Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing against Mycroft, winners and losers, and... memories of bad past relationships.

Jim had to admire Mycroft’s capabilities, but he had the advantage of being able to send better people into the field and being more intimately familiar with some of the regions and types of business–there really was no substitute for first-hand experience.   Mycroft did make things difficult–his agents managed to take out someone important and lose Jim his bonus– but still… it was going well. 

Early in the morning of the ninth day he got an email:

_Dear James,_

_If you aren’t too upset at me for winning the game, I believe I could reschedule._

_Sincerely Mycroft_

Jim stared at it in shock.  For a brief moment he actually considered conceding, just to take advantage of Mycroft Holmes actively asking to reschedule their date…

But…

Jim bit his lip: _if he couldn’t handle me playing at my best…. This… wasn’t going to be good…_   He considered emailing him back right away… _but that would give away too much…_

When Sebastian came home he took one look at Jim and sighed– “he tried to have you arrested, didn’t he?”

“No… not yet… he… he actually sent…” Jim sighed and waved at the email–he’d printed it out and tacked it to the wall over his desk.

Sebastian grinned, “Oh! You fooled him! He thinks he won!”

“Yeah…”

“Ok… he thinks he won and he wants to meet you–I still think he’ll try to have you arrested–so what’s the problem?”

“What…how is he going to take it when he finds out?” Jim put his head in his hands. “I can’t lose this one, Eoin–I can’t.”

“Oh...” Sebastian pulled a chair up and sat down. “Close that up and talk to me Jimmy.”

Jim closed his laptop and turned around. Sebastian was looking over his head at the letter. “So… I expect you’re going to tell me I’m over thinking it again?” Jim sighed.

“You may be,” Seb allowed, “You may not.  Let’s try this from the top: I assume there is a lot you aren’t telling me?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you GOING to tell me?”

“I… I wanted to get a chance to see Mycroft away from… well… like I said:  I want to be sure it’s not just that he was the only one in the whole building worth talking to–other than his PA, she’s wicked smart;  not a Holmes, but smart.”

“Have you considered chasing after his PA, Jim?  She’s a pretty one…”

“You’re the one chasing after girls, Tiger.” Jim grinned, “For that matter that’s a good idea… why don’t you?”

“ONE of us trying to get arrested is bad enough,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides, wasn’t that doctor fella trying?”

“Which doctor fellow?”

“Watson! Jaysus fuckin Christ, Jimmy, you can’t piss a Scot off like that and forget about him!”

“Oh… right… Watson…” Jim sighed, “He was a last minute add on and he pissed me off, Seb–I still say Sherly would have been a lot friendlier if not for him!”

“… well if he had been would ye have met Mycroft?”

Jim couldn’t help but smile, “No… probably not…”

“Ye look like a love sotted idjit!” Sebastian reached forward and swatted him. “Get that look off your face before one of the lads sees ya.”

Jim scowled at him, “I will skin you and make a rug out of you, you know!”

“Sure you will.  Alright, so he thinks he’s won–he hasn’t– and you’re worried about whether he’ll still be interested when he loses?”

“Right.”

“The only way to find out is to play it through, Jimmy.”

“I know…”

“I need to know the score, Jim–I had to run everything while that bastard had you…”

“I’ll… I’ll tell you the whole story, once I find out if this is just all in my head, Seb.”

Sebastian unfolded himself from the chair and sighed, “If he breaks your heart, Jimmy, I’ll shoot him… but I’m not picking you up again like last time.”

Jim winced–last time had been a bloody disaster, but last time was… “Patrick was just… good looking…” Jim sighed wistfully–he’d been very, very, good looking.

“Uh huh, and one of the Guard.”

Jim remembered that all too well– _he’d just been cozying up to me to get information and take us down… hell he’d been in with intelligence… Mycroft may have even been involved…_

A sudden noise snapped him out of it.

“Stop carving up the desk,” Sebastian put a shot glass in front of him–it was filled with small blobs of chocolate– “If he so much as looks at you wrong I will shoot him and you:  stop getting all maudlin!”

“What’s this then?” he waved at the shot glass–it wasn’t almonds.

“Chocolate covered coffee beans.”

Jim moved the shot glass away from him as if it was poison, “you would eat that.”

“They’re GOOD, Jimmy… now…” he snapped into his military voice, “Sit up straight! Stop snuffling! You’re the King of International Crime and the terror of London! ”

Jim smiled wryly, “Right.”

“If Mycroft Holmes can’t appreciate that you’re a damn fine catch–in the boyfriend sense– and that you’re better at this than anyone else?  He’s not worth your time.” Sebastian pointed at him, “What was it you told my sister about her old boyfriend?  Don’t make yourself smaller?”

“Don’t make yourself less than you are for a fella: he should make you want to be the best you can be.” Jim sighed, “Still good advice.”  Janine was a brilliant girl, really–had to be for her current work. Fuck Magnussen. “How’s that doing anyway?”

“Slow, but going any faster would be too risky.” Seb nodded. “She’s probably as close to his business as anyone.”  He pointed at the computer, “Now… you go show that unworthy bastard just what a brilliant madman you are, Jimmy, and he better appreciate it.”

Jim set back to work.  It was mostly all over but the final wrap up, so he busied himself with other business as well… and kept checking on the progress of the information drive.  When it was almost to MI6 he sent the code for his agent to escape the embassy–not the real defector; Sebastian had shot him first thing.

When he was certain the drive was in MI6, and it was too late to stop anything, he sent an email and hoped:

_Dear Mycroft,_

_If YOU aren’t too upset at losing… There’s a Jazz ensemble at the Magpie at 7._

_With fond regards,_

_James._

_P.S. I did say mate in ten._

Jim closed his laptop and walked into the kitchen and made tea.  Sebastian got a cup of coffee and they both sat there quietly for a while.

Information from inside Mycroft’s office said he had tried to do something at first, but realized pretty quickly it was all over with.  Jim amused himself for a while watching the chaos in MI6–the information pouring out of their computers was worth a fortune, after all. Mycroft Holmes went home at four.

“So… if you are going to go to the Magpie tonight–and I can’t believe you told him about the Magpie– then I’ll go play bartender–in case he does show up.”

“And if he does have the place raided?”

“I’ll drag you out the tunnel by the scruff of your fool neck and never let you live it down.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xVRVfqAV0s "Some Other Time" Tony Bennet & Bill Evans  
> Yes, in this story Eoin Sebastian Moran is Irish and Janine is his sister.


	4. The Magpie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Jim at The Magpie for some food and music...

 

Jim couldn’t wait inside, so he was leaning up against the wall outside when Mycroft showed up in a taxi.  _He… showed up… by himself… he did!_   He was wearing a suit, although just a hair less formal than most of his suits, and… _green_.  He wore a green patterned tie and pocket square.

_So was that just trying to reassure himself with his favorite color? Tell me I was right?  A nod to me being Irish?_

_…You’re over thinking it, just… appreciate it._

Jim smiled and was grateful he was still wearing sunglasses–no Alpha gaze to spook him. “That’s casual for you, then?”

“It was the most informal suit I own; will that be a problem?”

 _You … You desperately need to have some fun in your life_. Jim walked him in and forced himself not to touch him. _I want to touch you, I want to take your hand and touch your cheek… but this isn’t just about hormones._  “No problem; you would stand out a bit on the weekend, but seeing as it’s a weeknight some folks come out from work, so you’ll see some suits.”

Jim watched Mycroft take it all in–he looked overwhelmed: he also looked at the beers on tap with a nearly panicked expression. Sebastian was setting bottles out and looking suspicious at Mycroft, but no… Mycroft wasn’t looking at him; he was looking at the array on tap and the beer listing over the bar, not at Sebie. 

After the waiter dropped off the menus Mycroft spoke up quietly. “This is your place, isn’t it?”

“Yes; I was wondering when you’d realize.”  James grinned at him. _This is me.  This is me outside of work._  

“What’s it a cover for?” Mycroft asked curiously.

“It’s not a cover for anything, I don’t do any illicit business here– I mean other than being here and having my phone– I’ve taken a few business calls I suppose.”

“But what’s it FOR?”

Jim laughed, “Having someplace to get decent fish and chips?” _Don’t you ever just …no you never do anything just for fun, do you?_

Mycroft looked interested when fish and chips were mentioned, but then he snorted, “There are plenty of places to get that.”

“No there aren’t,” _Aha! You like fish and chips!  Wonderful!_

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed, “What about Lido’s?”

Jim raised an eyebrow, “The building was demolished to make way for luxury flats.” _How did you not know that?_

“What?” Mycroft startled and then hesitantly said, “Well the little place in SoHo–”

Jim shook his head, “Replaced with a Thai noodle shop– which is excellent but it’s not fish and chips.”

“Forrest’s Fish and Chips,” Mycroft frowned at him.

“Admittedly decent, but their quality has gone down lately.”

Mycroft looked unsettled and was quiet for a while. “Geoffrey’s, near Oxford!” he said triumphantly.

Jim stared at him, “Mycroft, they closed eight YEARS ago.” _My God, how long has it been since you had decent fish and chips… and you like them… but you haven’t had any in…_   Jim waved the waiter over. “Two fish and chip platters, an extra serving of chips, and bring him the better house beer: I’ll have my usual.”  He looked over at Mycroft, who was looking rather lost. “You need to get out more, I did say that.”

“Apparently…” Mycroft flushed slightly and looked back over at the bar… “So… normally if I was sitting with someone waiting for a performance I would discuss the wine list, but…”

“We could discuss the beer: forty-seven varieties of small breweries and craft–”

“Ahem, well… yes… I don’t actually know that much about beer.”

“Which I gathered from the glazed look at the ‘on tap’ line up, which is why I ordered for you. It’s not overly different from wines, there are different notes; various pairings– if you like I can go over it with you.”

“It seems unlikely to come up at most of the functions I attend…”

“Go to more functions in Ireland or Germany,” Jim chuckled, “Or some places in the Americas.” _Do you even LIKE wine, I wonder? Or did you just learn all about it for work._

“Would you tell me how you managed the–” Mycroft started to ask about the defector and the information–probably because he was uncomfortable and trying to shift back to work topics.  Jim considered answering but _if I let him talk business he’ll retreat back into his tweed and ice._

Jim tapped him on the back of the hand, and Mycroft looked… _oh god his lips parted and his eyes widened and he looked so stunned, and all I did was tap his hand_. Jim looked at him over the top of his glasses in delight. “Oh no, no shop talk–besides here comes dinner.”

Mycroft looked over at the food and then he licked his lip just a bit–it was somehow both adorable and sexy.  “James, if these taste half as good as they smell, I take back any doubts about your intentions.”

Jim couldn’t stifle the smirk as he opened his bottle of beer–inviting him to the Magpie may have been a huge risk, but it was clearly the right choice.

Jim watched him out of the corner of his eye for a bit–the man was eating as though he… _he probably rarely did get to eat what he liked, all those political dinners_.  Jim sipped his beer and considered: _Mycroft had clearly given up most of his personal life between work and taking care of his family, Sherlock had to have used up almost all of his personal time, and he probably had more people cozying up to him under false pretenses than I did._

_Also he was an Omega.  If anyone found that out they would not be happy with him in his current job… so he had to hide that… and he was lonely enough to risk coming here… alone…_

He was musing on the similarities between them, and the damnable social expectations on Alphas and Omegas when he realized Mycroft was staring at him. “Problem?”

Mycroft was quiet for a while before finally saying, “No…You’re usually putting up a barrage of… chaff, I suppose.”

“That’s a good term for it.”

The musicians started tuning up and Jim watched Mycroft scan the room again.  Sebastian was still watching Mycroft with suspicion, so of course he stood out.

 “One of your snipers?” Mycroft asked.

 _I wonder how he got that?_ “One of my best.” _The best sniper, and my best friend–I don’t have many; I wonder if you have any friends, really?_

“He’s the only one looking at me like that; the others are just on guard.”

 “He’s the only one who knows who you ARE.” Jim waved over the waiter–they’d both almost finished their beers. “switch us now.”

“I don’t know your codes,” Mycroft frowned.

 _Codes?  Oh…_ “It means we’re switching to non-alcoholic drinks, that’s all. As I said this isn’t a cover for anything illicit, and he’s just a good waiter who got in trouble, and is grateful for a job.”

“Gratitude can be a leash,” Mycroft sighed.

 _Yes, but I want more than that_.  The music started up and  Jim tried to watch Mycroft subtly… he kept slipping into enjoying the music and then sort of jerking out of it and looking around nervously. Every now and then he would watch Jim and focus on his tapping fingers, and he smiled hesitantly… but then he would go back to looking around and tensing up.

When the ensemble took a break Mycroft commented with a nod at Sebastian, “Does he think I’m going to poison you or that the place is going to be raided or…? Incidentally they’re excellent, were they playing at the music venue the other time?”

Jim answered the easy question first. “No, they’re young and unknown which is why they’re playing the Magpie, but yes they are very, very good– I may have arranged for them to have something of an opportunity; in a year or two they could be playing the other venue.”

Jim hesitated before answering Mycroft’s first question: “I expect he thinks you’re going to have me tortured again– he doesn’t understand why I’m being nice.”

“That makes two of us.” Mycroft muttered, and then changed the subject. “The webpage said that you have different types of music on different nights?”

“Mmm-Hmm.  Irish and Celtic music is Friday nights, if you like fiddle you should come–” Jim stopped suddenly, not sure if Sherlock or violins was a touchy subject.

“Yes, Sherlock is a very fine violinist, but I don’t think he plays anything but classical.” Mycroft sighed, “And no, I’m not likely to forget your rather destructive obsession with my brother.”

 _But you aren’t leaving, and you look more sad than angry…_ “He enjoyed it.”

“True,” Mycroft sighed, “But he enjoyed cocaine and heroin too– it’s still destructive.”

 _Hey! I’m not… was I?_   He glanced at Sebastian and remembered far too many arguments about how self-destructive his obsession was… “It was just so boooriing,” Jim grumbled, “And you could SEE how much he wanted to cut loose– that doctor is a horrible influence.”

“When Sherlock ‘cuts loose’ as you say he ends up face down in a drug den– overdosing.” Mycroft stared down into his soft drink, “I’ve pulled him out of enough of them.”

Jim had promised himself not to touch him, not to do ANYTHING that might use their compatible physiology to influence this, but Mycroft looked so depressed: he reached out and hesitantly patted at Mycroft’s hand, “Well, I expect it grates on him to have you in authority over him– biology, on top of being the younger brother.”

Mycroft looked up at him in a vaguely startled fashion. “what?”

“He’s an Alpha, Mycroft,” Jim kept his voice soft and turned his face so that none of the guards that could lip read had a chance. “He’s supposed to take care of you– it’s in his nature– but you’re older–”

Mycroft misunderstood. “If you mean to imply I am less than capable–”

“Oh no! Not at all… I thought you were terribly impressive, if frightfully dull, before," Jim looked him straight in the eyes, trying to let him read how sincere he was; “to manage what you do and conceal yourself so? No wonder you’re all buttoned up like that…”

Mycroft let himself look back, and… yes his pupils expanded even more, then he looked away. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean that his instincts will be to protect you.  If you believe evolutionary genetics theory, you more than any Omega other than his mate… because all his instincts are telling him to protect his bloodline; there are so many threats out there…”

Mycroft laughed a bit, “Like you?”

 _You don’t think I’m a threat._ “Yes, of course.”

“You could have done a great deal of harm,” Mycroft admitted, “I still don’t understand–”

Jim considered trying to explain, but… a crowded pub, and interrupting good music… not a good time. _besides, better to have curiosity on my side–he has to have that in common with Sherlock._

When the ensemble was done for the night Jim couldn’t resist teasing. “So DO you like fiddle? Because it’s going to be Celtic dance music on Friday.”

“I have no idea, I think I’ve only ever heard a few tunes, and I don’t know anything but ballroom.”

 _You DANCE?!  Oh…. oh, yesssssss!_  “Reeeeeaaally? Which would you prefer: learning to dance to something lively? Or going out to something more traditional?”

“I doubt very much I’ll have time.” Mycroft protested, but he didn’t say no… and in fact he looked interested… Jim considered the issues of a ‘soft no’: Mycroft had his own ride back; he didn’t look like he felt trapped…

“Oh, of course you will: it will be all paperwork for the rest of the week, and nothing much is on the horizon for THIS weekend.” Jim cocked his head hopefully and curled his hands into his lap– _don’t touch, don’t push…_

Mycroft looked like he was about to say no, and then…“This was lovely but I would feel more comfortable with something more familiar.”

“Ballroom it is, then.” _A second date! And I get to impress you with my dancing… and put my arms around you…_

Mycroft glanced around worriedly, “In case it has escaped your attention, we’re both ostensibly Male, and I cannot afford to be outed–”

“Heavens no, I haven’t even told my pet sniper what you are, just who…” Mycroft suddenly looked relieved and… hopeful? So Jim suggested Compression–two men going dancing there wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. “I happen to know a lovely gay ballroom venue.”

Mycroft pinched his nose and snorted, “You would…”

“I’ll pick you up at 6 then on Saturday.” Jim said brightly and then hoped he hadn’t pushed it too far…

“I assume you already have my address,” Mycroft sighed.

“Naturally.” Jim wanted to kiss him so badly, but– _No, I will let Mycroft set the pace_ – instead he picked up Mycroft’s hand, “Do make sure it’s clothing you can dance in, Mycroft: wardrobe malfunctions are only funny when they happen to someone else.” _I have been picturing getting you out of those suits all night, but I am NOT going to mess this relationship up_. He kissed Mycroft’s palm and escorted him out to a taxi.

When he came back in Sebastian was standing there shaking his head.

“What?”

“You want to discuss it here?” Sebastian gave him that ‘you may be brilliant, but you’re being stupid’ look.

Jim grumbled and led him back to the office: once they were in Sebastian leaned against the door, “So… are you going to tell me what’s going on? Because THAT looked serious.”

“What did?”

“You turned his hand and kissed his palm, Jimmy.”

Jim frowned, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh… uh…” _shit, yes I did_. “I’m taking him to Compression on Saturday, so you’ll need to set up the sniper–”

“Jimmy…” Sebastian growled.

“He’s…” Jim tried to say something bland and ended up swearing, “I doubt he’s ever had a day’s fun in his life, Seb!  He loves fish and chips and he kept mentioning all the good fish and chip places… and didn’t know they were gone!  He didn’t even know Lido’s was gone!”

“How do you miss that?  They put up luxury flats–” He shook his head, “no don’t change the subject on me Jimmy… you’ve gotten damn serious and fast… what if he’s just leading you on?”

“What for?  I gave him what he wanted… and… he came here alone–we could have killed him or kidnapped him.”

“I don’t know but… he’s tricky!”

“He… yes, he is tricky, and smart, and dangerous, but… I have… there’s things you don’t know.”

“Because you won’t TELL me!”

“Let… let me see how a night out dancing goes…”

“James Brendan Moran…” Sebastian started through gritted teeth.

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that on me, only my mam could pull that on me and you aren’t that pretty.”

“How can I manage things if you keep critical information from me?”

“It’s HIS information…” Jim sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, “I’ll tell you if I have to, but… how is he going to trust me if I tell people without his permission?”

“…alright… but you need to keep your head in this, Jimmy.  Even if he’s honestly interested–IF– the temptation has to be there to cause us trouble.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i didnt know any jazz songs about fish and chips: https://youtu.be/e6-PwSaxLA4 (Dirty Apples by Johnny "Hammond" smith)


	5. Caravan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Date with Dancing  
> (Parallels Chapter 4 of Syncopation, of course)

Jim focused on his work as best as he could for the rest of the week, but he kept getting distracted by thinking about Saturday.  _Mycroft in his arms, music…_ He ordered emerald colored cufflinks and buttons for his formal-wear–instead of the red or black he normally preferred– and polished his shoes. 

Eventually Sebastian took the shoe polishing kit away from him. “You polish those shoes any more, and they’ll wear right through.”

“I just… I want everything to be perfect…”

“Jimmy…” he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “You know you’re obsessing worse over Mycroft than you ever did over Sherlock?”

“No one’s getting blown up, Seb, I don’t think this is worse.”

“You… personally… are obsessing worse–you’re pacing around the place, ignoring reports until I put them in front of you…”

“Oh? Like what? What reports have I been ignoring?” Jim demanded.

Sebastian sighed, “Well the easy one first: Sherlock looks like he’s getting ready to interrupt your date.”

“Oh, well… probably?  I don’t think Mycroft told him who he was going out with, but…”

“So is Sherlock just trying to spoil his brother’s date? Or is this a trap?”

“I don’t think either, Sebie: Mycroft doesn’t date, so Sherlock is curious–and concerned– about a change in his pattern.”

“So the snipers I’m setting up at the club aren’t for him, or Mycroft?”

“Sebie!”

“Just checking… now the not so easy one: your least favorite client has been repeatedly messaging you.”

“Least favor–” Jim made a face, “Mags?”

“Who else?”

“What does he want now?”

“He dropped some hints and threats of course, and then wanted information on Mycroft Holmes.” Sebastian stepped back in anticipation before Jim started throwing things.

…

Eventually Jim finished swearing and hurling objects and got his temper back under control.

“I’ll handle it.” The last thing he wanted was Magnussen even finding out Sebastian existed.

He read the messages–he was threatening again, as usual, forever… _I should just shoot him and get it over with… not worth it… yet._ _Fuck Magnussen_. 

 _He wants to know what I have on Mycroft? Well… it would be suspicious if I didn’t answer that one…_ It hurt to write up a report that was such a blatant lie, but he tried to remember what he had thought of Mycroft before… and project forward to what he would have thought of him if things had gone the way he expected… The report he sent him about Mycroft Holmes was unflattering as hell, only partly true, and contained a great deal of veiled warnings to stay away–from Sherlock.

_God forbid Magnussen ever found out about my interest in Mycroft, or Mycroft being an Omega._

Writing the report took a lot of the joy out of getting ready for his date, really–it reminded him too much of what… of what Mycroft was like in the bad ways. 

“Sebie?” he walked out to the shared rooms: Sebastian was cleaning a rifle.

“Yeah?” he looked up. “When can I shoot him? Every time you deal with him you get depressed.”

“His information would cause so much trouble…” Jim sat down in one of the other chairs. “Is… is it really that crazy for me to be involved with Mycroft?”

“Yes.” Sebastian nodded, “It’s definitely one of your crazier things, Jimmy, but…” his eyes narrowed. “You haven’t had any question about it until you dealt with Magnussen… so…why now?”

“I had to write up a report with my information on Mycroft… I mean… what I was willing to let him know…”

“Uh huh… and?”

“It’s… partly true. He’s bureaucratic, obsessive, controlling, has all the emotions of an ice cube–I didn’t mention that he was thawing– practically IS the British government–with all that entails– lives life by a schedule and stopwatch…”

“Is any of this news?” Sebastian asked calmly.

“No.”

“But you weren’t thinking about it, because you got obsessed–again.” He sighted down the rifle and put it down on the table.

“Yeah.” Jim leaned back and put his feet up. “Do… do you think we even have a chance?”

Sebastian stared at him, eventually he said, “How the fuck would I know, Jimmy–you aren’t telling me why you think it WOULD.”

“The things that I can tell you?” Jim started ticking things off in his head, “He’s smart, Seb, so smart–smarter than Sherly; he’s actually repressed as hell, not ice all the way through; he’s controlling as fuck because he has to be–he’s got things that scare him, and he’s chasing after Sherlock and his drug problems–”

“Ok… so what makes him a better match than your prior obsession–other than ‘smarter’?”

“Well, honestly…if Mycroft hadn’t been running interference, do you think Sherlock could have kept up?”

Sebastian considered that for a bit, “No.  He’s too single focus, and –who doesn’t know the earth orbits the sun anyway?–also way too egotistical and wanting everyone praising and petting him–either he would have loved you for NOT doing that, or hated you.”

“And he’s an Alpha…”

“Yeah, but so is…” Sebastian blinked, “Mycroft’s not?”

“No… I don’t want to talk too much about it, but… he’s not–I talked to him briefly about it at the Magpie: I think that’s driving a lot of issues with his brother.”

“An Alpha with an older brother, that controlling, and not another Alpha? Yeah that would grate.”

“Mycroft likes math,” Jim changed the subject before Sebie thought about the odds too long, “he’s actually read his mother’s papers–understands them–we were talking mathematics…”

“Well, that’s something you have in common…” Sebastian allowed.

"He loves fish and chips… but… he’s so bottled up in that office he hadn’t had any–hadn’t gone to his favorite places– in years.” Jim was breathing a bit more easily. “he’s not all schedules and ice because that’s what he likes, he’s… he’s shy, and repressed, and crowds bother him I think–I suspect he has social anxiety, and I think he may like schedules and so on because it gives him control…”

“Are you feeling better yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Jimmy…I don’t like the man because he’s all the worst parts of the English in one package: unofficial arrests and disappearing people and sneering superiority–”

“He’s not that last part, really.”

“Yes he is.  He may do it for different reasons, but yeah he is.  We both lost too many relatives to people JUST like that, and the government he’s pulling strings for… so no, I don’t like him.” Sebastian sighed, “But if you think he can thaw out under the right conditions… I’ll watch your back while you get the heat gun.”

Jim smiled, “And tell me ‘I told you so’ if he breaks my heart?”

“Well, first I’ll shoot him, but yeah.  So you’re going to go back to mooning over your dance date?”

“No… I’m going to get some work done, and… hope I haven’t let myself see something that isn’t there.” _It could be just hormones…I hope it isn’t._

In between work he looked up Bonding, and hormones, and all those things he never thought applied to himself. He kept running into the usual nonsense about Omegas needing a Bond to be stable, but… in between the official publications he found people talking about how much _Alpha’s_ were the ones who needed to Bond… needed the stability…

_It may be true–my life isn’t very stable, never has been… maybe that’s why Mycroft appealed so very much?  Sebie always did say I needed him to keep my mad plans organized–he was the sensible solid one to my brilliance… the one who actually did the checks and made sure I didn’t just go spinning off…_

Jim stopped with a start and stared over at Sebastian who was napping on the sofa before going to set up the sniper positions…  Both Gingers–Sebastian on the blond side, Mycroft on the brown–both tall, both precise, both frighteningly organized and orderly…

_I mean otherwise they were nothing alike, but…Sebastian and I had worked together for years–lived together for a few–and hadn’t killed each other yet…_

Jim decided it was a good sign and went back to finishing up business for the day.

…

Jim’s driver pulled up outside Mycroft’s house–no sign of extra security or problems– and Mycroft came out. He had an overcoat on, and his umbrella, but… nothing looked out of place.  He brushed his pocket nervously–not his watch pocket, so probably a tracker. _That was sensible._

Mycroft got into the car and when he looked over a small delighted noise escaped him: _he was looking at me like I was all that and a bowl of ice cream…_ and yes; he eventually did focus on the green accents with that hopeful smile. James ran a hand down his own buttons and smiled, “You look utterly edible, Mycroft.”

Mycroft flushed and then suddenly asked, “James, could you ask your driver to pull over in the next block for a moment?”

He looked worried…Jim tapped the intercom and told the man to pull over– _please don’t be a trap_. No, Mycroft looked… relieved, not tense–if it was a trap he would be tense, not relaxing, right?

Mycroft looked very serious and said, “I’m afraid for security I had to make some adjustments…” he nodded at a car parked to the side with dark windows and a government plate. “We need to change cars, and I need to drive.”

Jim forced himself to stay calm– _let Mycroft lead… he… maybe he felt too cornered in my car? He wasn’t in my car before._ “I didn’t know you drove, Mycroft, you always have a driver.”

“I took extensive lessons, in the event that my driver was taken out.” Mycroft bit his lip as he got into the driver’s seat, “There’s a box on the floor in the back seat; can you get it and bring it up front?”

Jim got the box–it was large but light, so… _what was it?_   Mycroft pulled out smoothly and started driving.

“I left a tracker in the back seat of your car, James… If you could ask your driver to take a slow tour of the city?”

 _Ahhh… that’s a good security step, and… that way Sherlock won’t interrupt._  His nerves settled a bit. “Of course.” He phoned his man and told him to drive on a ‘romantic London’ tour and hung up. “Should I warn my people that we aren’t showing up?” _I wonder where we’re going?  He’s in formal wear…_

“Indeed, and I am afraid my brother likely will be– showing up.”

Jim laughed, “Well you are dressed to go dancing… seems a shame.” Jim considered him carefully. “You look somehow less stuffy in formalwear; I don’t know how you manage that, it’s usually the reverse.”

“I suspect it’s simply that people have become accustomed to a vest being part of formalwear so it looks less out of place.”

“Could be.” He picked up his phone and called Sebastian. _I’m going to get an earful when I get home_ : he tried to ignore the worried ‘IF you get home’ in the back of his mind.

“Yes?” Sebastian was always rather terse on duty.

Jim answered, “Ghost,” and hung up before Seb could start swearing. “He’ll be furious; he hates not knowing where I am.”

“I thought we could, in fact, go dancing… just… not there.” Mycroft cleared his throat, “I convinced someone to change their party to a formal masque… in exchange for agreeing to attend.”

“Oh?” _So we are going dancing!  And… that’s what was in the box, masks… wait, ‘agreeing to attend’?_ “Wouldn’t you normally go?”

Mycroft shuddered, “All those people? And half of them angling for political information and the rest chattering mindlessly? No. I only go to those things when I have to: it’s far too tiring.”

“I would think political chatter and angling for information would be your home court.”

“I hardly need to subject myself to it– I usually work from my office or my club…”

Jim tsked, “You REALLY need to go out more.” _And I was right about you hating most social events–you probably do have social anxiety:  you hate playing the role and I love it…_

“Yes… well… I took the liberty of procuring masks for us both.  It has the added advantage of you not being recognized.”

“Good idea” Jim agreed quietly.  The first mask he pulled out was a rather decorative demon or devil mask–it had horns anyway. “I’m the devil?”

Mycroft chuckled, “No… that’s my mask, although we are related.”

Jim put the mask down on the seat and pulled the other one out from under the tissue paper. “Oh… you flatterer.” 

It was an emerald green serpent coiled in a tree–an apple tree: if there was one thing Jim could identify easily it was an apple tree.  _‘that tempter of old’_ … Jim put it on immediately.  We weren’t going to a trap–the mask said it all: Mycroft was TEMPTED… and he’d even managed to work in the reference to apples… and green–his favorite color. 

Jim relaxed and watched Mycroft drive.  He drove competently and carefully, and it wasn’t long before they arrived at an embassy party… _Probably a good thing I do have a mask on: I suspect I know too many attendees._

Mycroft handed over his invitation–he was expected, after all: he put on his mask afterwards.  When the valet got the car, Jim came around and slipped his arm through Mycroft’s: he was shivering slightly despite his calm demeanor. 

Mycroft turned and stopped.  Jim couldn’t see his expression well behind the mask–his was more complete coverage, probably by design, but he could see his eyes widen.

“I knew it would suit you.” his voice was deliciously affected.

“You should be Eve, not a devil…” _I am going to seduce you…just wait until I get you on the dance floor, Mycroft._

“I lost any innocence a long time ago.”

“No… I don’t think so; you just hide it behind all that paperwork.” Jim smirked, “Shall we?”

Mycroft headed to the buffet first, and Jim watched carefully what he chose to eat– as far as he could tell he looked wistfully at sweets and ate things that were small and…easy to eat and non-greasy… because this was work and it was all about his public face… 

 _Oh no you don’t–this is a DATE._ Jim got him a rather tasty looking cheese thing that he’d been looking at. “Go ahead: no one is going to think poorly of you for being polite to your guest, Mycroft.”

Mycroft startled a bit but then took it and ate it carefully… “Thank you.” he said quietly, “I’m rarely at these events and when I am it’s all about making the right impression…”

Jim kept his hand on the man’s back or arm as they migrated around: Mycroft having to make all the right noises at people when he was recognized–fortunately rarely.  Slowly Mycroft seemed to relax, and over time he was leaning more into Jim’s hand for support.

Once when Mycroft tensed up at too many people, too close, Jim leaned in and made the most scathing comment about one of the guests–Mycroft snickered.  After a few more passes at the buffet table, Mycroft began to quietly chime in with his own wicked comments.  He WAS funny, and witty, and sarcastic as hell–it was delightful.

Jim could almost hear Mycroft’s thoughts about some people by the way he held his hand, or his eyes behind the mask, and they started finishing each other’s statements and once they both looked over at a man with his trophy wife–he was trying so hard to fit in, and over done by half– and they both laughed without saying anything.

Eventually the music began and some people started to dance. Jim tapped Mycroft gently on the back, “This was supposed to be a dance date.”

“I do have the issue that I was only properly taught to lead…” Mycroft said hesitantly.

“I could teach you, but for the first few why don’t you just lead? You’re taller anyway.”

“You don’t mind?” Mycroft sounded honestly surprised– _I suppose he hadn’t met many Alphas who were willing to… oh … he probably hardly ever danced with another man even…_

“No, I don’t mind at all… although I may insist if they play a tango…”

Mycroft stumbled  and Jim was initially concerned that he couldn’t dance that well, but he was in fact an excellent dancer–nothing novel or showy, of course.  Jim bit his lip and simply followed Mycroft’s lead– _next time I’ll show you how it’s DONE, darling… or maybe with that tango… wait, was he stumbling because of the idea of a tango?_

Mycroft commented between dances. “I didn’t expect you to dance so well– especially following.”

Jim smiled under his mask, “I had no idea YOU danced so well!”

“Our mother insisted, and I often had to escort young ladies about– Sherlock ducked out of it usually.”

Jim tried to picture Sherlock  doing that and laughed, “I cannot imagine him being politic and debonair.”

Mycroft started laughing so hard he had to stop to catch his breath at that, so Jim led him out to the patio garden–there were only a couple of people at the far end trying to sneak in a smoke, or talk unheard.

“Do you tango?” Jim slid his arms around him and looked up into his eyes behind the mask.

“I know the basics…”

“Let me lead…” Jim started humming and moving him carefully with a hand on his hip and one on his wrist: Mycroft followed beautifully.

“You missed your calling, James, you should have taught dance.”

“I did.” Jim admitted as he enjoyed Mycroft in his arms, moving together…

“What?”

“I did… among other things.  I’ve taught dance, I’ve been an actor– I tried to be a cook and that was a disaster, but I know how– I’ve done a lot of things.” He couldn’t help the innuendo at the last bit.

“Well I–” Mycroft tensed. “Ah… trouble. I suppose we had best repair back to the main party.”

“Hmm?” Jim followed his eyes to the group standing off to the edge of the patio.  _I suppose I’m just used to homophobic gits–you wouldn’t be, I suppose.  Alistair?  He’s hanging about with Mika? Oh he is out of his LEAGUE: I wonder why Mika is bothering with him_ … “Oh, yes, I think the first two were simple homophobes, but that last fellow is Alistair.”

“Yes, he’s well connected with several embassies and suspected of working for a number of problematic groups.” Mycroft sounded concerned.

“Alistair? Oh Gods yes, sells information to anyone and everyone but he’s in the back pocket of the Russians.” Jim agreed. Some other men had joined the group– Mika’s by the look of them.

“They… do seem to be inclined to cause trouble,” Mycroft was looking warily toward the door back.

Jim couldn’t help it–he knew too many of them and they would never DARE trouble him: he curled his arm behind Mycroft’s back and bent him to the ground… and despite his concerns Mycroft gracefully went along with it. “Want me to get rid of them, darling?” _I would rip them apart with my bare hands to show off for you…_

“I’d like to avoid murdering anyone at a political event…” Mycroft teased.

“Really?” Jim smirked and swung him back into the tango, “but it’s TRADITIONAL….”

Mycroft kept a straight face for a beat and then laughed. “Yes, but I’d end up having to do the clean-up.”

“Oh alright…” Jim pouted–he would too, he was the official guest.  Mycroft started laughing again, and Jim raised his voice and switched to Russian: “{DO you have some business with me, Mika? Or were you expecting to cut in?”}

“{Y-You were not expected?}”  Mika startled and stepped backwards–his men immediately followed his lead: Alistair, poor idiot, just looked confused. 

“{I’m never expected.}” Jim slid his hand from Mycroft’s waist to his back, and turned to lead him out of the area: Mika stepped backwards again. _Smart man, Mika_.

Unfortunately Alistair was not smart at all, or he would have followed his lead. “It’s an insult to your hosts that you couldn’t even bother to bring a proper escort!” Alistair and his whiney annoying voice…

Jim was about to ask Mika to make his pet dog heel or something when Mycroft suddenly straightened up with an air of determination and removed his mask: “Alistair, I’m certain the ambassador is thrilled no matter who I attend with– after all he’s been trying to get me to attend for months at least. I might even be welcome if I brought YOU, but as it is I brought someone with connections and manners: good day.” And he turned back into Jim’s arm as smoothly as a dance move.

 _Mine, MINE!  My Omega!  Mine!  Isn’t he wonderful!  That level of burn should have set off the fire alarms!_ “Bravo darling! I did tell you that you needed to get out more…” as he led him out.

“I despise putting up with people like that!” Mycroft grumbled.

He was clearly tense and unhappy: Mycroft should never be tense and unhappy. “Want me to have him killed?”

Mycroft snorted, “If I wanted him killed I could have him killed. He’s annoying but regrettably useful.”

Jim sighed, thinking of Magnussen. “Ah, yes, the thing that keeps so many people breathing– he’s useful.” He changed the subject: “Caviar?”

“Oh!” Mycroft visibly perked up, “Do they have the GOOD caviar?”

Jim made a note that Mycroft liked Caviar. “They had a shipment delivered a day ago, so if they don’t I wouldn’t know why.”

Mycroft blinked at him, “How would you know that?”

“Black market caviar? Do you have any idea what the profit margin is on that?!”

“So you’re saying I should have been asking YOU why my normal suppliers can’t get quality caviar?”

“Mycroft!” Jim put on a mock offended tone and made a note as to what he was bringing on their next date, “All you had to do is ask…”

They liberated a truly decadent amount of caviar from a passing server, and Jim got them champagne.  He fed Mycroft bits of caviar and some of the other tempting dishes–there was a vegetarian dip that was utterly sinful and Jim made a note to find the recipe– and they both drank far too much champagne.

Jim managed to get Mycroft back out on the dance floor, too–well, in a side room a bit out of the crush of people but close enough to hear the music– and he held Mycroft in his arms and he never, ever, wanted to let him go.

Alas all things had to end and Mycroft pointed out that he had to leave–but he did sound unhappy about it.

“I should as well, really,” Jim sighed, “No rest for the wicked.”

After sweeping the car for bugs–it HAD been left with a valet– Jim called his driver to meet him halfway back to Mycroft’s house–apparently he’d been followed for about half the London tour before they gave up.

“I suppose you’d like the mask back?” Jim reluctantly held it out.

“Keep it, James, it suits you.”

“Why thank you, Mycroft… and despite the change in venue I had a lovely evening.”

“I did too…” Mycroft sighed, “We need to talk, seriously.”

“I suppose we do.” Jim admitted unhappily–tonight had been wonderful, but they couldn’t spend their whole lives in masks.

“But not tonight.” Mycroft finally said.

“No.” Jim bowed over his hand and got into his car–he almost forgot to come back with Mycroft’s tracker. “Here you go… apparently they either realized it was a trick, or lost interest.”

“Thank you, I expect I will get an earful tomorrow.”

Jim sat back in the car and drew a finger down the snake on the mask… _Temptation…God you’re a temptation, Mycroft… I want to just scoop you up and run off with you… but anyone I COULD just run off with wouldn’t be worth having–you’re an equal._

The driver asked him what he wanted to do next. “Home–make sure you shake any remaining tails…” _Sebastian is going to skin ME and turn me into shoes at this rate…_

Jim watched the London lights go by and thought about the question ‘What do I want’.  Usually the answer was power, money… not being frightened– _I frighten other people now…_

But that had changed.  All of that was suddenly… just… a means to court Mycroft, a way to keep HIM safe, too…

_What do I want? I want the delight on your face when they played a waltz; I want the noises you made over caviar; I want the indrawn breath when I swept you down in a Tango; I want your determination and persistence; I want your loyalty; I want the tremble in your body when I kissed your hand and I want those wicked sarcastic comments as we watched the pretty goldfish swim about…_

_Anything it takes to get that is a fair price._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5O_ICpYMUds Ella Fitzgerald singing "Caravan"


	6. Lullaby of Birdland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Jim have that long delayed serious chat... and go a tiny bit further.

Sebastian was waiting when he got home.

“I know, I know…” Jim started talking before Sebastian could. “But we did in fact go someplace very secure…”

“You let him drive you off? Without back up or security, Jimmy?”

“Well… if you think about it… I was driving HIM off without backup or security–I hadn’t even told him where we were going, although I think he knew.”  Jim shrugged, “he dropped the tracker in my car and Sherlock chased that around for a bit while WE went to that embassy party–Mycroft had gotten the ambassador to change it for a masked ball.”

Sebastian uncoiled just a bit. “Oh… well… yeah… I guess it is a bit of turnabout…” he shook his head and smiled faintly, “you went to the embassy?”

Jim held the mask up, “LOOK at the mask he got for me, Sebie!”

“Uh…this means something important, doesn’t it?”

“He cast me as the tempter, Sebie, AND it’s the serpent on the apple tree, AND the serpent is his favorite color–matched my outfit!”

Sebastian sighed and walked him over to the kitchen counter, “Alright… so… I take it that it went well…”

“It was wonderful.”

“I’d try to talk business with you, or yell about the security, but I can tell it’s just going to go in one ear and out the other.” Sebastian handed him a hot chocolate. “We NEED to sit down and discuss how this will affect business, Jimmy.”

“I know… and… Mycroft and I need to talk about how it will work… we did agree we needed to, just haven’t arranged the time yet.”

…

Mycroft certainly didn’t put things off: he got an email the very next morning:

_Dear James,_

_We need to have that serious talk. The Magpie if it’s secure enough, otherwise?_

_Mycroft_

Jim considered, but… The Magpie wasn’t all that secure, and… if the conversation got heated…

_Mycroft,_

_The Magpie is somewhat secure but as I said, not intended for business and thus may not be secure enough. I’m willing to let you choose the location. I trust you understand I dislike your office– although the tea was nice._

_James_

Mycroft replied quickly:

_James,_

_Since you already know my address, why not meet at my house.  I do hope you understand it is a matter of convenience and security, not anything further as yet.  When would you be available?_

_Mycroft_

Not anything further ‘As Yet’?!  Jim grinned like a loon… not anything further ‘AS YET?!’  He sent a selection of dates and times. They agreed to meet on Tuesday after office hours.

Jim very nearly danced into the living room, “We’re going to have that serious talk about relationships, Sebastian!  He invited me to his HOUSE!”

Sebastian looked up from the computer, “When?”

“Tuesday… after work hours.”

“Hmm… go early.”

“What?” Jim blinked at him, “why?”

“If you go after work, anyone tracking MYCROFT will see you arrive.”

Jim winced, “Ouch, I should have seen that…”

“You should have, yes.  Look, you have to leave and handle that business in the States… are you going to be up to it? Seriously?’

“Yes, Sebie, I’ll be up to it.” Jim shook his head, “Its tedious and vaguely annoying, not all that dangerous.”

“Yes, well… you aren’t thinking clearly… look I want to send my cousin Darragh with you–he won’t be much good to me here while I’m minding the network, and he’s a damn fine close combat man.”

Jim stared at him, “he’s a DOG, and the last time he went as my bodyguard the entire Russian delegation–and me, and him– ended up drunk off our asses at a strip club!”

“He IS a dog, but he’s also good at his job–and the situation with the Russians was tense and that defused it nicely, if at the cost of a few hangovers.”

“Bloody monster of a hangover…” Jim grumbled. “Alright, set it up, but I’m not going on this trip to party.”

Jim got to Mycroft’s house just after lunch and went in–the security wasn’t quite as good as it should be, probably should talk to him about that. He set down his gift and  tried to work on business, but eventually the temptation to browse Mycroft’s bookshelves and find out a bit more about the man got overwhelming.

It was faintly sad, really: most of the books were resources for work, or collected speeches and  biographies–probably also for work.  There were a few books that were clearly about keeping up with Sherlock, and then… finally… a collection of what had to be personal interest.  He had a small collection of science fiction, a handful of fantasy novels that Jim had never heard of, and wonder of wonders he had a few books in ‘The Saint’ series–one of Jim’s own favorites.

We… BOTH… like the Saint? 

Jim pulled a well-worn copy of the collected works of Lewis Carroll off the shelf, and found some math notes tucked into it…

“How could we possibly be this much alike and so different?” Jim muttered as he settled himself on the couch to read.

Jim was startled by the door unlocking and Mycroft walking in–it was far too early: Mycroft looked unhappy, even before noticing Jim. “You’re early, Mycroft–problem?”

“How did you…?” Mycroft looked back over his shoulder at the door rather worriedly. “Not that I actually think you intend a problem, but it’s extraordinarily bad that you could get in to my house.”

“Yes, really, it is.” Jim carefully put the book down and stood up. “I’d tell you to invest in better security, but it wouldn’t make a difference to me–I’m rather like your brother that way: the best way to keep me out is an open door invitation to a boring location. You came in upset, and now you’re more upset–do we need to reschedule?” _also do I need to kill someone?_

Mycroft took several deep breaths. “No… I suppose I had just anticipated some time to leave work behind me and… re-settle myself.” He looked back at the door. “And not worry about my security.”

“It’s not like any ordinary threat can get in,” Jim pointed out. “and I hadn’t intended to distress you: I simply thought arriving early made it easier to avoid cameras.”

“Tea?” Mycroft changed the subject.

“Would be lovely. I didn’t feel comfortable rooting about in your kitchen, just your bookshelf.”

“Please sit down; I’ll be back in a moment.”

He took a bit–probably re settling his nerves–before coming out with the tea set and some sandwiches–sandwiches that looked like maybe he had an upset stomach?

“No wonder you’re so thin: you live on coffee and tea at work, and this is your dinner?” Jim blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “I’m not that thin, and normally I eat more, but my stomach has been bothering me because of work. You did notice me eating at the party.”

 _I noticed you having to be coaxed to eat at the party_ , James frowned slightly, and then realized he’d probably touched on a nerve… “Wait… That’s one of those things I’ve been told not to do… Hold on…” He held up a finger and tried to remember... _Oh hell._ “Oh yes, never comment on people’s eating habits or weight unless they ask you to or you have that kind of relationship.”

Jim hated apologizing and normally he wouldn’t, but… that… he hadn’t meant… “I apologize, I don’t mean any harm by it. I’ve been told it’s a byproduct of my own food fixations.” _By a much too observant therapist that I probably should go back to someday._

Mycroft fidgeted. “Errr… I hadn’t noticed you had any food fixations?”

“Oh heavens, yes,” Jim tried to make light of it. “This is good, by the way; comes of growing up hungry, I suppose.”

“I… had no idea.”

“Good,” _and I have no idea why I’m telling you… blasted emotions._ “Since your brother always comments on your weight, I rather expect it’s a sore spot with you–I don’t see it myself–but family…” He shrugged, “They could tell you the sky is blue and it would get under your skin.”

“A lot of things ‘get under my skin’, as you put it.” Mycroft smiled faintly, “My brother has simply raised it to an art form.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile at that–having gotten a few recordings of the two of them snarking at each other.

After they finished, Mycroft took the tea set away and cleared the dishes–Jim offered to help, but he declined– and Jim got his present out and put it on the table; then he waited hopefully.

Mycroft smiled when he came back in. “It looks like I’m supposed to pull the ribbon and have it explode.”

“Don’t be silly, Mycroft,” Jim teased. “Bombs are for what, the first anniversary? Or was it the second…?”

Mycroft laughed, “Oh dear, whatever are knives?”

“Oh, that’s right: knives are first, bombs are second, and I think arsenic is fifth…” Jim mock  frowned and holding a finger to his cheek.

“What is it you get fifteen of at the reception in lieu of blenders?” Mycroft asked sounding oh so serious.

“Oh, you still get blenders–you can’t sit on a tropical beach earning twenty percent without blenders.” Jim laughed.

“Is… that supposed to be a quote?” Mycroft asked.

Jim sat back and–nope; he didn’t have a clue– _he needs to get out more_. “Jokes lose so much without context… You REALLY need to get out more, Mycroft. It’s from the movie ‘Die Hard’: the dashingly well-dressed, multi-lingual thief who just explained a truly wonderfully executed plot–seriously, I could have designed it–says it.”

“Oh?” Mycroft smiled faintly. “Well you are dashingly well-dressed, and I suppose you’re multi-lingual, so I expect you identified with the character.”

Jim smiled at the praise. “Oh, he’s far, far too hands-on, really, but… it’s Hollywood, what do you expect? He’d just explained that the explosives and resulting demolition was to conceal their escape and then he says: ‘When they touch down, we'll blow the roof, they'll spend a month sifting through rubble, and by the time they figure out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach, earning twenty percent.’ And really, it’s true, that’s what would have happened.”

“What goes wrong?” Mycroft asked curiously.

“Individual, unrealistically competent New York cop who wasn’t supposed to be in the building and singlehandedly managed to bollocks the entire thing up,” he shrugged, “and then they made a horrible sequel.”

“Oh, poor criminals,” Mycroft smirked at him. “All that hard work.”

“Oh, yes, no one appreciates art anymore.” Jim smirked back at him, “DO open the present.”

Mycroft opened the box and gasped. “Why, James, that’s… rather overwhelmingly generous.”

 _YES!  He looked utterly stunned and delighted!_ “It’s traditional to bring food or wine, isn’t it? I assume your cellar is well stocked, you don’t drink beer, and the only food I know you like…” he waved at the caviar. “Of course, as an ulterior motive I like it too.” _and… and I wanted to feed you, provide for you… damn._

Mycroft shyly said “I suppose a small bit of drink, and some caviar, wouldn’t be too much for a serious discussion, James. Please let me put this to use.”

 _And you’re LETTING me give you food!_ Jim tried not to get too sappy as Mycroft set them up with a bit to drink, some of the caviar, and a few other tidbits.

“It seems a shame to spoil such a lovely setting with an unpleasant discussion,” Mycroft said mournfully after having some of the caviar.

“Is the situation going to go away?” Jim smiled and sat back, “I had to learn to ask that a long time ago. ‘If I ignore it will it go away? Will someone else fix it–well enough anyway? Is it going to get worse if I don’t jump on this right now?’.” He crossed his leg and clasped his hands over his knee. “Tedious, really, but necessary.” _God knows I used to try to do it all myself, too._

“I eventually learned to ask that sort of thing,” Mycroft admitted. “At first, I rather tended to assume I had to do everything.”

 _We are so much alike under it all…_ “So… What’s the discussion?”

“Put simply? Our relationship is potentially lethal.” Mycroft said it very solemnly–as though Jim didn’t know? or perhaps it was how he gave briefings anyway. “I am not widely known to be an Omega–”

“Obviously not, or I would have known,” Jim nodded.

“Not even within my office or government.”

“As I said.”

“If word got out, there are a number of people who would claim I was unfit for my position.”

“Patently ridiculous, but people are idiots.” _Especially about Omegas._

“Those who KNOW that I am an Omega have, as my brother correctly noted, been reassured by my lack of submissive characteristics… and lack of any interest in an Alpha.”

“Ah, yes… I can see where that would be an issue.” _That does explain a lot, actually._

“Combined with the fact that, assuming the situation didn’t explode over just that, anyone I was in a relationship with would be expected to pass a rather extensive background check…”

“Hmm… Tricky.” The background check was difficult… not impossible… maybe he could re purpose one of his other identities? “Not impossible to arrange–rather a challenge, I suppose.”

“You see the issues…”

“The security clearance is the easiest to fix, but the rest are somewhat more difficult–”

Mycroft laughed, “Please Jim fix it for me?”

“Why CERTAINLY, Mycroft,” he grinned. “I always did love a challenge.”

“Without staging my death or murdering too many of the government?”

“Oh… Well, if you’re going to be difficult…..” he said lightly, sipping his drink. “I still think I could figure something out.”

“Do let me know if you can.” Mycroft winced, “Apparently my office has already started betting on who you are.”

“Yes, apparently the lead is I’m a spy you wanted taken in to the embassy.”

Rather strangled, Mycroft gasped, “You know that?!”

“Darling, your office leaks like a sieve! What was it you said? None of them can be trusted: they all spy on people for money.”

Mycroft groaned. “It’s that bad, is it?”

“Oh, it’s much worse than that, but I suspect you have enough to worry about,” Jim said sympathetically.  _I suppose I might eventually have to tell you who spies for me, but … yes it is pretty  bad._

“Alright,” Mycroft sagged faintly. “Will you answer a question?”

“I already told you, you only have to ask.” Jim smiled at him encouragingly and opened his hand in a “do go on” gesture.

“You could have forced the issue, but you have been… excruciatingly polite.” Jim nodded. “Why?”

“Oh, well, that’s simple enough.”

“Is it? I can’t manage to figure it out.”

“That’s because you have horrid self-esteem,” Jim sighed, “which, if I had known back before, I could have… Ah, well.” _Honestly I could have destroyed you, so I suppose it’s a wonderful thing that I had no clue at all._

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him and waited.

Jim took a breath and tried to remember: _plain honesty–no fancy word tricks, just… spell it out._ “Put simply, I never wanted an Omega–or any kind of permanent relationship of that sort. Why should I saddle myself with some long term”–he smirked at Mycroft–“Goldfish, when I could always have one as a rental or something?”

“My office does leak like a sieve, I see.”

“I have very few people I allow near me, and, honestly, very few I WANT near me: they’re Boring.” He shrugged, “You and your brother were the only ones worth playing with. Now, you have to admit that your brother is very pretty, but I can get pretty anywhere. Pretty and smart enough to keep up? That’s rare.” Jim couldn’t help but smile fondly, “I was rather thinking I could talk him into running off with me–competing over who could create the best crime? That would keep me from being bored for ages.”

Mycroft looked a bit puzzled. “You’re both Alphas.”

“So? If he was interested in another Alpha that way, it would be brilliant–if not, it would still be brilliant.” Jim gathered up another bit of caviar and chewed thoughtfully. “Sex is lovely, but it’s far further down on the priorities than good conversation and not being bored. However, that relationship had several problems I was becoming aware of.”

“Other than my temptation to kill you?”

“Mycroft!”

“I did rather think you would prefer to know the truth.” Mycroft looked startled.

Jim shook his head vehemently, “Of course I prefer the truth. I meant, did you honestly think that the danger wasn’t a PLUS?!”

Mycroft sagged with his hand over his face, “Oh, dear God…”

 _Just getting it I see_. Jim leaned over and patted him on the arm. “I’m sorry darling… I thought you knew. No, the problem is that Sherly dear simply can’t keep UP… If it weren’t for you throwing chaff in my way, I would have been running circles around him. He’s getting better, but…” Jim sighed and sat back, “mostly because he’s hung up on that ridiculously ethical Beta of his, so he’s paying more attention.”

“Alright, and any of this explains…” Mycroft hesitated and finally said, “us?”

“Well, I thought you were smart–smart enough to be a challenge–but boring.” Jim said  apologetically, “I did say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You aren’t boring.” _See?_

“So why…” Mycroft grumbled and finally said, “NOT to put ideas in your head or anything, but why not Bond me when you found out and get all that information? Why not kidnap me?”

“As I said, you have horribly low self-esteem. If I wanted anything out of your office, I would have it; if I wanted to kidnap you, I could have done it from your office any day–in fact, I would have preferred to as a challenge just to rattle people.”

Jim leaned forward and stared directly into Mycroft’s eyes, trying to get this across to the poor repressed man–despite his self-esteem issues. “I don’t want your silly government information, or the money I would get from selling you, or whatever else it is you’ve come up with–I want YOU: the only Omega I’ve ever met intelligent enough to be worth Bonding to.”

Mycroft’s mouth dropped open.  After a moment he looked like he might protest so Jim firmly said, “And before you even think it, Mycroft: a forced Bond is garbage. If you don’t want me as your Alpha, then that’s it. I decided as soon as I found out to see if we were actually compatible… and we are–remarkably so.”

“I was rather surprised by how much so,” Mycroft admitted.

Jim smiled at that. “Then it simply remains to figure out the logistics, something that we are both fortunately very good at.”

“I cannot leave my post.”

“No, you WILL NOT leave your post, you certainly COULD… but I did rather understand that.” Jim shrugged, “For now. Eventually, you would have to find or train a replacement…” he grinned VERY wickedly, “or breed one.”

Mycroft froze; and then slowly a wistful, longing look crossed his face. “They’d bring Britain to its knees by tea-time,” he said in a tone between terror and longing.

“OUR children, Mycroft?” James smirked, “By lunch–by Tea-time, they’d have the continent by the throat.”

Mycroft looked very hesitantly at him. “You… I gave up any hope of children when I chose a career…”

“If we can have children?” Jim reached out and took Mycroft’s hand, turned it and brought it to his lips. “Then I will be delighted.  I admit I never thought it likely–how could I put up with anyone for that long?”

“If we can’t? If I can’t? I’m rather old for a first Bond…”

“I already told you, darling, I value intellectual companionship and compatibility–and not being bored–far over mere sex… or children, although I would VERY much like to try,” he licked Mycroft’s palm–Mycroft didn’t pull away, “repeatedly.”

“I’m hardly an attractive Omega…”

“Mycroft… you are a TERRIBLY attractive Omega…if other people lack taste it’s not my fault–although I will certainly take advantage of their idiocy, I usually do.”

“You could have…”

Jim decided there was only one way to shut this down–well two, but he wasn’t going to force the issue– and put his finger to Mycroft’s lips. “Shush.  Yes I could have any Omega I chose–I choose you.  that’s because I only want the absolute best.  Now stop being a ninny.”

Mycroft blinked at him several times and then snorted, “I’m not a ninny, nor am I twelve–I suppose I’m just a bit…oh bother, personal issues and emotions…”

Jim sat back before he was tempted to do anything too sudden. “I have never bonded before, but I have been involved with people–another Alpha once, a few Betas… one Omega and…” Jim shuddered, “That was horrible.”

“I had horrible crushes on several people, one… serious relationship… I thought… it turned out he was just trying to use my position.”

“I know it may shock you, Mycroft, but your position is a detriment in our case, so…”

“Did any of your relationships… you said the one Omega was…”

“An unmitigated disaster. I was younger– although I should have known better– and trying to move up in the world…and they were foisted on me in an attempt to turn my head with hormones: it worked to an extent.” Jim winced again. “They didn’t even smell as nice as you do… but it turned my brain to mush.  In my defense I–”

“I’m not blaming you–what happened? You said you didn’t Bond…”

“My cousin–he’s a Beta and not a close cousin by blood, but… anyway– my cousin caught on pretty fast and dragged me out into fresh air… then it got messy: dispose of the bodies messy.” Jim shook his head remembering–Sebastian moved up to his second in command that day.

Mycroft blinked and a bit of the sharp analytical look flashed back onto his face. “You… have relatives you deal with?”

Jim laughed, “YES, Mycroft, I have at least a handful of relatives I still deal with–and several I will shoot if they show their faces–and I’ll introduce you as soon as you like: although fair warning: my cousin thinks you’re up to something.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened, “does he know–”

“Not yet.  He knows I’m serious about you, but do remember I was fairly intent on Sherlock and HE’S an Alpha: my being serious about you doesn’t tell him anything.” Jim shrugged, “So when were you telling Sherly locks?”

“I told him I would talk to him after I found out… well if it was going to work.”

Please say yes. “Well is it going to work, Mycroft?”

“I think it shall…” Mycroft shook his head and smiled, “I’m ALMOST looking forward to seeing his reaction.”

Jim grinned, “You wicked, wicked man you–I knew we would get along!” he reluctantly stood up. “I have to deal with business out of the country, but I’ll work on solving the security issues in my spare time.”

“Business?”

“Nothing to do with you or England–promise!”  Jim walked toward the door and then paused… “Could I ask you a favor, Mycroft?”

“As long as it doesn’t compromise British interests…”

Jim smirked, “It may compromise something, darling, but not that.”

“very well… what?”

“Could I get a kiss goodnight?”

Mycroft blushed–blushed to the roots of his hair.” oh…” After he stammered for a bit he nodded, “I would… I think I would enjoy that…”

Jim took his face in his hands and kissed him gently, softly, on the lips. “That’s just a promise–I’ll kiss you properly when I have it all worked out and can afford to lose my head.”

And he walked out before he could change his mind.  _My Omega… mine… Bonding…maybe a ginger haired girl with a wicked smirk and a talent for math, or a raven haired boy with a solemn expression and an interest in explosives…_

Jim grinned: Chemistry? Dead bodies? Sherlock would be an awesome uncle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UY8zK4R9oE8 Ella Fitzgerald singing Lullaby of Birdland


	7. Aint Misbehaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is dealing with business-it goes badly.  
> (NOTE: this chapter begins the parallel of 'Broken Time' and contains far more trigger warnings)

Jim slept fitfully on the plane, and checked into the hotel with his guards… and Darragh promptly tried to talk him into heading out for a night on the town.

“I’m tired, cranky, and don’t want to be here: you WANT me to stab someone?” Jim glared at him.

Darragh was either immune to glaring, or oblivious. “You’ll feel a lot better after a night out, maybe some pretty things and some drinks…”

“No I won’t.”

“You always do!”

“If I get another hangover I’m shooting you.”

Darragh dragged him and a few of the boys off to some overly loud entertainment venue with male and female strippers–how the man always knew where these things were, in any city, in any country, was a mystery.

It was boring.

Jim sipped at the decent-if overpriced-drink and watched pretty people do things that were supposed to be sexy… _Yawn_.

“I’m going back to the hotel, Darragh–get the party out of your system and come home: wake me up and I shoot you.”  He noticed the man looking worriedly after him as he left– _dunno why, I had enough guards._

He spent the next full day getting his sleep cycle caught up to local time, and shopping. Shopping mostly because he wanted to be out in daylight to get his sleep cycle caught up…there really wasn’t anything he…was…shopping for? _Yes there is._

“Find me the good jewelry district.” Jim told his driver– _how many brain cells have I lost? This was my one chance to do serious shopping for Mycroft with NO danger of him seeing me or finding out!_

…

He came back to the hotel with a few small but expensive bags of presents–and some new ties, because they had some awesome ties.

“Sir?” Darragh was looking at him with that same slightly puzzled worried look, “Are you feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re… not acting like yourself…”

“Who am I acting like then?” he snorted and carefully put the jewelry boxes away, and then considered whether he wanted to wear one of his new ties to the first meeting tomorrow– _yeah, the dragon one…_

“Well, you… don’t normally go home without a …date…”

“A quick fuck you mean… look, Darragh…you mean well, really you do, but… I’m not interested.”

“That’s what I mean, you always were–if you don’t get laid by the third night of a business trip you usually get kind of… stabby…”

Jim hesitated.  He turned and looked puzzled at the man. “I do?... hmm… yessss…?  I do usually…I just don’t feel as… unsettled, I suppose.”

Jim tried to remember the last time he was in America on a business trip… well, yes, he’d had the concierge hire him a few pleasant distractions–Darragh hadn’t been along on that one–but… well that was different, he was bored…

“I’ll probably get bored soon enough, Darragh.” He shrugged, “Right now I have things to occupy my time.”

The next morning he started the endless round of meetings, politics, and cautious noises that were par for the course when setting up alliances and business arrangements.  Honestly he could have sent a wax dummy that made the right noises–this was tedium.

 _Well, Mycroft was probably up–it would be evening there, but he’d be up_.  He sent a text: “Miss you–business is boring–people are idiots. JM

A few minutes later he received a reply:  “People are usually idiots.  My PA wants to meet you–she knows who you are–my brother also wants to meet you–he does not.”

Unfortunately the idiots chose that moment to start finally getting to the point, so he had to pay attention.  When they had a break for lunch he replied with some concern: “Jane? Flower names by the alphabet? Too observant by half?  That PA?  You DO know she reports to people–not me, sadly.” He really wanted to shoot the woman sometimes–she’d actually gotten a few clues watching him be interrogated, she reported to SEVERAL people on Mycroft, and she was apparently un-bribable by anyone else: his people had tried, repeatedly.

Mycroft replied: “I am well aware, but we have a history of keeping certain confidences.”

Jim started to tell him not to trust her, but…telling him how to run his business wouldn’t go over well. “Well, that’s your call, not mine. If things go well I’ll be back in another week–if they don’t go well it will be two–I refuse to let it go to three… and I am utterly DYING for intelligent conversation, but can’t be seen texting. L”

“I envy you: not only do I deal with governmental idiots, but I am having to deal with a ‘useful’ person who is utterly slime–the very instant I can I am having him poisoned.”

“ooooh! Tell me!”

“I thought you had to go?”

Jim glanced up–people were giving him looks. “…you… are evil. XOXO”

“I hesitate to wish you good fortune in your endeavors–since I have no idea what they may be– but I hope you are back soon.”

“ta!”

Jim put his phone away and shrugged, “One of my people caught a spy–I told them to keep him alive until I could get back to deal with it personally… so can we move this along gentlemen? Getting a new skeleton for my office is such a rare pleasure.”

They stopped looking at him and became more businesslike–nothing like a few veiled threats to move things along.

He finally got THAT business resolved on Tuesday, and he had to get on a plane to go to his next meeting–America was a bloody huge country– tomorrow. _BORED_ …

He waved Darragh off to go party or something and stayed in the hotel texting Mycroft and watching a movie.

…

 _I swear they all get their suits from the same place_ … Jim was in yet another social function with a group of high level criminals.  They were trying to impress him and putting out expensive food and cheap prostitutes and… _honestly can’t they just have one fucking dinner and get to business?_

 _Hmm…_ they had different guards today… and… several of the higher level people seemed edgy. Jim kept his face neutral and signaled his guards to high alert. His guards never ate at these events, but Jim usually ate what his hosts ate: Jim refused any drinks and watched what his hosts were eating, what they were watching… _mixed signals, so don’t eat anything._

“Seriously, gentlemen,” Jim smiled his least friendly smile, “As charming as this has been I have business elsewhere…”

The oiliest of them–the man practically had ‘sycophantic weasel’ stenciled on his forehead– spoke up, “but Mister Moriarty, we arranged for something special… just for you!”

“Oh? I would think actually getting to business would be something special…” he kept his tone light.

None of them looked like they were going for weapons… and they were too crowded in here to have some of the men break in with guns and strafe the place… Jim kept himself away from a clear line of fire in any case.  _I don’t know what they are up to, but it’s bad._

The scent hit Jim’s nose before he saw them–unbonded Omega in heat– then they were being  escorted in by some of the guards… _no, not just escorted in: brought in_.  Jim flashed back to the incident  where Sebastian moved up in ranks and growled–this situation looked different, though…Jim looked the Omega over: NOT a family member of one of these men, she was probably in her early twenties, had a drug habit, overall very attractive, and currently a glazed over mess.

Omega pheromones were filling the room–Heat and a bit of distress, but she was probably too high to care much–and his two Alpha guards were going more than slightly feral in response. _Was that what they wanted? To start an Alpha fight over an Omega?  Get me killed and make it look like just bad luck?_ That’s what was different about the guards tonight: none of their Alpha guards were here, and none of the Alpha senior men… all the Alphas were on his side. _Fools_.

“You know, bringing an Omega in Heat into a room full of Alphas is probably the STUPIDEST thing you’ve ever done.” Jim brought his pistol up and shot oily right between the eyes–the spray of blood behind him fanned out beautifully, but there were too many people in the way to get a good pattern.

Their guards started going for guns–Jim just laughed: they were so slow, so very slow compared to an Alpha–and a feral Alpha was even faster. “Boys? They want to keep you from the Omega…those BETAS want to keep you from the Omega…”

People forgot how FAST an Alpha could be, and Jim had always chosen his Alpha guards for their speed, not just their strength. His two men turned into feral killing machines–they were all highly trained killers, of course, but right now? They never even thought about their guns.  After the first two Betas had a limb ripped off before they could use a weapon, most of the other guards broke and ran.  His Beta guards shot anyone else who looked like they might be a problem.

“Darragh! Jeffrey! Alpha suppressants on those two, NOW!”  _Before they finish beating the Betas to death and turn on each other._

He aimed the pistol at the senior surviving man in the room, “Now get on your damn knees and start kissing up to me like your life depends on it, because it does.” _You’re a dead man no matter what, but it could always be slower, and I have questions…_

His two guards were injected with suppressants–Jim always traveled with extra injectors, just in case– and dragged off to get their heads together while the poor silly Omega got hauled off to a shower by one of his Beta guards–one that wasn’t interested in girls.

Jim had a few more people taken out and knifed, a few people badly broken, and called in a few of the people from this group that hadn’t been here today: turned out there was an attempted power grab within their little group and not everyone had been involved in this mess.  It took several more hours of making his annoyance known and disposing of bodies before he could go back to his hotel.

“I’m going straight into a shower to take the stink off!” he growled at Darragh as he stalked off to the shower.

“…yes… sir…” Darragh had been acting oddly, but … not in a disloyal way, just… odd.  _I’ll worry about it after I shower._

When he came out Darragh was on his phone. “I’m telling you, Eoin, he didn’t even bat an eyelash!  Every other un-bonded Alpha in the room was going feral and he just stood there and directed like nothing was wrong…”

Jim was about to snap at him for calling Sebastian when the words really sank in… the last time someone had used an Omega in Heat to get at him he’d gone out of his head… when Mycroft had been in the very first flushes of heat in interrogation he’d had trouble thinking straight and had to get the Alpha suppressant… and that was just the first hints of heat…  This Omega had been brought in in full Heat–ANY unbonded Alpha would have gone completely…

_Unbonded Alpha…?_

Jim walked up and held out his hand for the phone–Darragh looked a bit guilty and handed it over. “I’m fine Sebastian.”

“Are you?”

“I’d taken Alpha suppressants before the party because they were annoying me too much.  Nothing to worry about–the only problem is it reminded me a bit of ancient history.”

“Oh…” Sebastian sounded relieved, “Darragh thinks you’ve been poisoned–said you weren’t even getting laid or anything, and then that…”

“Ah…no. I’m fine.  After we got rid of this lot I should be able to make a deal with the uninvolved less stupid parties… be home in a week, tops.”  He hung up.

Darragh cleared his throat, “You…sir…if you took Alpha suppressants and didn’t tell me… I can’t guard you if I don’t know you’ve been slowed down…”

“Did I look slow when I was reacting at the party?”

Darragh stopped and looked rather wide eyed, “No? You shot the guy before I could move… your reactions were… normal… for you…”

Jim sighed, “Congratulations Darragh, you get told the truth before Sebie does–I’ll be telling him when I get home.”

“Are… are you sick? You aren’t poisoned…”

“No… I think I’m Bonded.”

He looked dubious, “Think? Uh… how do you miss that?”

“Oh we haven’t gone as far as sex– and no exchange of blood products–so it’s not…. Finalized.” Jim smiled and sat down. “But my body barely reacted to her–I reacted a bit, that’s why I had to get her out of the room– but… my first and main reaction was that she smelled wrong: she wasn’t MY Omega.”

Darragh blinked a few times and then poured them both something to drink. “Congratulations?”

Jim nodded his head and touched glasses, “Thank you.  I guess that’s why I’ve been edgy but… no, none of the pretty things appealed–not even for a quick fuck to scratch the itch.”

“It certainly explains why you’ve been so calm…I honestly thought you were sick or poisoned, sir.”

“I appreciate your concern–and it’s a sensible concern–hell, I hadn’t realized myself…”

“Who is she? I’ll start working up a list of guards to reassign–it’s up to my cousin of course,” he nodded, “ but I can start the planning…why haven’t you told him?” he looked alarmed, “Eoin is loyal as HELL sir, he–”

“Calm down, your cousin’s loyalty was never in question.” Jim sighed and leaned back in the chair. “He knew I was seeing someone, but…I may have led him to believe they were a Beta.  This… I was concerned he would just assume I was being manipulated by pheromones–like they tried here.”

“Alpha’s are vulnerable,” he nodded. “I… assume she isn’t just using her–”

“He.” Jim shrugged, “I always preferred men anyway, but my Omega is male.”

“Isn’t that even rarer?”

“Yes.  He’s kept that a secret–played at being a Beta–for most of his life: trust me, he wasn’t going to give that away just to seduce me…” Jim smiled fondly and glanced down at his phone.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Darragh said in awe, “The untouchable Jim Moriarty is in love… please tell me Eoin didn’t miss THAT!”

Jim sipped his drink and tried to scowl, “No–he knew. He thinks I’m being an idiot and he’s afraid they’ll break my heart.” He glared at Darragh, “And if you tell ANYONE I will be upset; because having to explain that I actually skinned you and turned you into a briefcase will upset Sebie.”

Darragh was grinning but he crossed his heart with his thumb, “Not a word, sir… but at least it explains your behavior–can I be there when you tell my cousin what he MISSED?”

“Ah, family privilege?”

“Yes… he’s always one step ahead of me, and usually way more observant… I gotta see his face.”

Jim nodded, “If possible I will let you be there.  Anyway shoo, I have to text my Omega.”

“Of COURSE that’s who you’ve been texting… is that who you were texting when you lied about the traitor? Eoin would have called me if we had a spy in the ranks…”

“Yeah.  Now shoo before I make you into shoes.”  Even Jim didn’t think he sounded very believable.

Darragh gave him a sloppy salute and walked off shaking his head, undoubtedly plotting against the day Sebastian found out.

_Sebie is TOTALLY going to skin me and make me into shoes–or a gun case._

Jim stared at the daylight pouring in the windows–dealing with that had taken all night and most of the day– Mycroft shouldn’t be awake in London…

He sent a text anyway: “If you are still awake, get to bed–I’d tell you to have fun, but you never go out and have fun, so …”

The reply came quickly: “I am still awake, as it happens.  How is your business going?”

Stick to the truth so he won’t be mad at me for lying, but… _probably better not to explain the whole Omega in heat thing until I see you in person_. “I got fed up and shot someone.  that seemed to make things move a bit faster so I will be back this week!”  Then a few moments later he added,  “why are you still up? Insomnia?”

“Considering politics, and unhappily dealing with that slime I mentioned.  I may yet have him poisoned–do you have any really good untraceable ones?”

“I knew you had it in you!  No darling, you never want an untraceable poison at your level: you want an obvious one you can pin on the wrong people. Think of it as wine pairings!”

 “True… I don’t usually poison people so I hadn’t thought of it.  I wonder what  kind of poison goes with Danish slime?”

 _Danish?  And Mags had wanted a report on him_ … Jim got very worried. “Mycroft… are you by chance having to deal with CAM?”

“As you know I can’t give you any information about my business, but… how do you know that name?”

“You…” Of course you’re dealing with him: he’s useful. “He’s an Alpha, a blackmailer, completely untrustworthy, power hungry, manipulative and… I will CHEERFULLY remove him for you if he’s troubling you: he’s not that useful.” _In fact he suddenly became enough UN-useful that I don’t care about his damn blackmail anymore._

“I knew he was an Alpha–it was in his security report: also his hands sweat and he stinks.”

_He touched you; he got his nasty stinking sweaty hands on you…_ Red hot rage lit up his blood and Jim had to put the phone down before he broke it.  He walked over to his bag and gave himself a small dose of the Alpha suppressant and counted to ten before coming back to the phone. “He’s dangerous, Darling…seriously.  I won’t tell you how to run your business but do be careful?  I’ll be back in town Monday at the latest, but I expect to need a bit of down time before I’m fit company…” _Fuck coming home in a week! And before I see you again I need to work out how to kill Mags for touching my Omega…_

Jim started making plans.

Mycroft texted: “it makes my weekend much brighter just knowing that you’ll be back soon– we can discuss slime removal over fish and chips?”

“Deal. One of the few times I will discuss business at the Magpie. XOXO” _Home. Home NOW!  Kill Mags, meet Mycroft for fish and chips, then apologize for having pre-emptively killed Mags…._

“Darragh!” Jim snapped.

“What?” he skidded around the door frame  with a wide eyed look, “what’s wrong?”

“Pack. I need to be home Monday.”

“Uh… we were going to be here the rest of the week to wrap this mess up…”

Jim stared at him levelly–Darragh looked away immediately. “My Omega needs me to be home– also I need to kill someone for bothering him.” Jim forced himself to breathe– _Darragh is a good man, and a good guard, don’t take this out on him…_

“Y-yes sir.” Darragh was nodding very shakily.

“I took a quarter dose of Alpha Suppressant, a few minutes ago–directly into the leg muscle–so I’m a bit slowed for a few hours.”

“You did? And you’re still this… right… uh… you know I don’t think I’ve ever seen your Alpha run that close to the surface, sir? And that’s… after a shot… uh… right…”

“Stop babbling and make the arrangements.”

Darragh left the room fast. Jim picked up the phone and called the new head of the organization–now that they’d killed everyone else. “So as you may have noticed, I‘ve run out of patience.  In the interests of not killing anyone ELSE we will wrap up our business this weekend: clear?”

“Yes, of course.” You could hear the man nodding. “And again, thank you for dealing with the–”

“No parties; no socializing. Not. One. more. waste. Of. my. Time!” Jim forced his breathing back under control. “Clear?” he added sweetly.

“As crystal, Mister Moriarty.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could not think of a more appropriate song for this than "Aint Misbehaving"   
> Fats Waller: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSNPpssruFY  
> I know for certain  
> The one I love  
> I'm through with flirtin'  
> It's just you I'm thinkin' of  
> Ain't misbehavin'  
> I'm savin' my love for you


	8. Night And Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plan all you want, and then scramble to catch up when things change... at least they had the sniper lines set up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many people covered this song: this is Ella Fitzgerald https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6M--07fGwU

Jim was met at the airport by his car and went straight home.  Sebastian barely had time to open his mouth before Jim snapped: “All other business is on hold–we’re killing Mags.”

Sebastian–bless him– just blinked twice and said, “Finally! Okay… how?”

“Well obviously we need to make it look either accidental or pin it on someone else…” Jim glared at the tea–not strong enough– and poured himself a cup of Sebie’s black caffeine death. “Get whichever of the team you need and–”

Sebastian plucked the coffee right out of his hand. “I will start assembling this. YOU will take a sedative and try to get over the jet lag.”

Jim started to say something and Sebastian glared at him, “Jimmy… do you have ANYONE better than me for this job?”

“…no…?”

“Then trust me when I tell you that YOU need to be at one hundred percent to take on Mags without it pointing back to us: GO get some sleep–it will take me some time to recall a few of our best people, and start working on this…” he shook his head and then smiled, “This is because he’s bugging Mycroft, isn’t it?”

“…yes.” Jim grudgingly admitted.

“You came home a week early, because…” Sebastian frowned, “Did he ASK you to do it?”

“No.” Jim sighed, “He didn’t seem that bothered–he said he was annoyed enough to consider poisoning him, that’s all.  We… were going to meet at The Magpie and talk about Danish Slime removal… when I got back.”

“So he doesn’t expect you to do it for him, and he totally doesn’t expect him out of the way before you two meet?”

“I wanted to surprise him–also I hate Mags.”

“Well… wouldn’t it be better to surprise him with a REALLY good plan? As opposed to a sleep deprived jet-lagged, half-assed job?”

Jim had the horrifying image of a BOTCHED attempt to remove Mags flash through his head and winced. “Right… go take a sedative and go to bed… thanks Sebie…”

Sebastian got to work recalling a few people and rescheduling things, and Jim took a fast shower, took his sedative and lay down for just a few–

…

When Jim got up–and after he got over the confusion of finding Darragh in his living room instead of Sebastian– Darragh drove him to the office.

“So Eoin got a few of the other folks in, and he has a lead on a few independent folks–”

“Mercenaries,” Jim nodded. “Useful when you need to be disavowable.”

“But he said to remind you that he can’t hire too many folks–even people we would normally use–because of so many being under Magnussen’s thumb.”

Jim sighed and stared out at London going past, “I know… that’s the damnable thing about Mags: he’s scum but he’s really good at it.”

When they got there Sebastian had three of their best snipers–after himself of course– and had somehow managed to pry Leonard out of retirement.

“Lon?  You swore you were out of the business!” Jim grinned and walked up to the old man, “You also said it would be a cold day in hell before you set foot in London again…”

“Temperature in Norway is below freezing,” Leonard said with his characteristic dry tone. “Sebastian said you were finally going after Magnussen–I’d be in just for that.”

“I didn’t know you even knew about him?”

“It’s a small community, Jimmy, one of my best buddies from the time had a son… that bastard blackmailed him into trying his hand at his father’s work–well, he’d not the experience for it, or maybe Magnussen wanted him cleaned up, but he’s dead and buried now.” Leonard put his hand out–his good hand–“you want an explosives expert on this? I’m in.”

“And glad to have you.” Jim looked around at the group, “Alright… Magnussen has blackmail on me– some of its even true–enough to be a problem, but if he’s dead I can just use one of my new identities.  He also had blackmail on some other people that could be a problem, so a lot of them either won’t act against him, or might defend him even though they are… not our targets.”

Everyone nodded, so Sebastian had gotten the basics across.

“We need to take him down fast, and cleanly, and blame it on someone else–or make it look accidental but I honestly don’t think that’s an option.  Now I’ve obviously thought about killing him for a long time, so I admit I have some ideas in mind…” he grinned, “Most of them involve snipers.” He nodded at Leonard, “Hadn’t expected to have you, so… let’s see if we can use your expertise to good effect.”

Obviously they weren’t telling anyone else that Janine was one of theirs, but Jim did emphasize that the offices were out of bounds unless things changed–everyone agreed the best location was his home.   It didn’t take long to get the basic plans of his house, and some of their better stealthy people got out there Monday night and mapped out some of the best lines of sight.

…

Tuesday he got a nice text from Mycroft arranging to meet after work at The Magpie.  Jim hesitated but… _certainly, I can… I can explain our plans then, and make sure he doesn’t have anything going on to conflict with that_ …

He took Sebastian aside. “I’ll be going to The Magpie tonight to meet Mycroft, and we’ll be talking about the plans involving Magnussen. On the off chance that anything leaked out to Mags, I want a guard with me.”

Sebastian snorted, “You get two, at LEAST–Mags has a nasty habit of getting the jump on people from what you said… this is to meet Mycroft?”

“Yes… it’s very unlikely that–”

“If he’s been bugging Holmes, then you HAVE to assume he might have someone keeping tabs on HIM: even if Magnussen doesn’t have a clue about your plans, we know his office leaks.”

Jim winced, “Right… get everyone ready to move into position tonight, just in case?”

“Everyone but me–I’ll be with you–and one or two of your better close in men.”

Jim nodded, “Fair.  Message Janine and have her go home tonight–no more after hours work today, just in case.”

…

Sebastian came to get him to head off to The Magpie.  “Janine didn’t have to call off: Magnussen sent her home early today.”

“Do you know why?”

“No.  If he’s home the snipers may manage to get some information–at least one of them packed  a laser microphone– and I can take one  if I head over there after The Magpie.”

“Good idea.” 

In the end Sebastian and Darragh both came, along with his driver.  Officially it was because Darragh was the better close in fighter and Jim needed guards that couldn’t possibly be compromised because of Mags, but Jim knew Darragh just didn’t want to miss it when he told Sebastian that Jim’s boyfriend was an Omega.  He was almost to the Magpie before he realized that Darragh didn’t know that his boyfriend was MYCROFT…

_They are BOTH going to kill me…_

_…_

Jim was sitting at his table, waiting for Mycroft–and honestly daydreaming about what it would be like to peel those suits off of him– when his cell phone buzzed.  _Not many people had that number…_ he looked down expecting to see Mycroft’s ID but it was a London number he didn’t recognize.

“Hello, and this better be important.” Jim said idly into the phone.

“I need to speak to Jim Moriarty–James Moriarty.” A very tense female voice on the phone.

“Who is this?”

“My name is Jane–I work for Mycroft Holmes.”

Jim could almost feel his adrenaline kick in. “This is Moriarty: What’s wrong with Mycroft, and why are you calling me instead of Sherlock?”

“I called Sherlock first–he didn’t answer his phone. Are you aware that Mister Holmes carries a tracker and panic button?”

“Yesss? He bloody well should!  Wait, he set it off?  It would go straight to Sherlock…” _Calm, stay calm…_

“Yes. It does.  It also goes straight to me.  I am heading back into the office to be able to use the full resources there, but… he was supposed to be on his way to a meeting with the Prime Minister… and he set off the panic alarm.”

Jim cursed vehemently under his breath. “Do you know anything yet?  Or do you need to get into the office.”

“I will know more once I can access the trackers–that would all be at the office. Sherlock has a tracker on him as well, or he should… it may be he is already trying to deal with this.”

“I have resources at my disposal that will be faster than anything you can bring to–”

“Which is why I am calling you!” Jane snapped, “And Mister Holmes had better be right that you are likely to HELP and are not behind this!”

“If I wanted to kidnap him I could have and would have!” he shouted and Sebastian and Darragh’s heads snapped over from the other table. “Anyone lays hands on him and I will rip them limb from LIMB!”

He felt the phone casing crack and put it down quickly.  With a great deal of effort he managed to GENTLY press the speaker function. “Sorry, I cracked my phone… in the event that the connection breaks off–” he gave her two other numbers, “How far from the office are you?”

Sebastian and Darragh had already gotten up and were clearly prepped to leave: Jim carefully picked the phone up and headed to the car, the two of them falling in behind him.

“I just got in: I’m getting into the system now. Thankfully Mister Holmes gave me full access earlier today.”

“What’s going on? Sebastian asked as quietly as he could.

“Mycroft hit the panic alarm… on his way to a meeting with the Prime Minister.” Jim got into the car.

“Mycroft?” Darragh asked, even as Sebastian raised his voice and said, “Miss? Any chance it’s Magnussen?”

Jim had to hand the phone to Sebastian before he powdered it. _Not Magnussen, not… if that bastard did anything to Mycroft..._

“… I’m very much afraid it is–Mister Holmes’ tracker is almost to his home… and… Sherlock’s phone tracker is already there?” her voice was bewildered; then she apparently processed the new voice. “Who is this?”

Jim snapped, “That’s my chief sniper– we’re heading there… I’ll call you back from the other phone.”

Sebastian took the hint and hung up.  As the car pulled out into traffic he texted the other snipers while Darragh handled some other logistics and got the guns ready. “Luckily they were already planning to be out at his place,” Sebastian had dropped into his business voice–cool and steady: it made Jim feel a bit better–“some of them are already on their way out, or nearby…”

Sebastian glanced over and tossed an injector into Jim’s lap. “Boss… Jimmy… take a shot before you wreck anything else: none of this should ever need you to be up close and personal with Mags–we’ll take him out by sniper like we planned… besides, he won’t hurt Mycroft–he probably just  picked up Sherlock or something and figures on scaring him.”

“Mags is an Alpha, Sebie!” Jim snarled even as he reluctantly gave himself a full injection.

“Oh fuck me…” Darragh breathed out, “Your boyfriend is Mycroft Holmes?!”

“That’s why we want to take him out by sniper…” Sebastian said in a puzzled tone.  _He doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand the danger…_

“Yes… and the problem, Sebastian, is that Mycroft is an Omega… MY Omega…” Jim glared into the dark and willed the car to get there faster.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the rescue... if they can get past the guards.

Sebastian had kept it to a terse: “When this is over with I am going to have a few words with you Jimmy…” and gone back to getting the men into position.

When the Alpha suppressants hit enough for him to manage a phone safely he called Jane back and got her to cut off the house from outside contact–and loop or block the cameras that they had control of. She agreed to keep all of their agents and responses out of the way and let his boys work–she’d handle cleanup.

They pulled the car to a stop outside of the house and moved in: Jim didn’t have time to be subtle so when they had to go past some guards he just killed them.

“Didn’t you take the suppressant?!” Sebastian hissed.

“Yes, just get in position Seb.” Jim snarled back and kept moving while Sebastian peeled off to get in position.  Darragh took down the next guard, and they were almost to the house when Sebie spoke up in his earpiece.

“Target and hostage located; section three B.” _That was a sitting room with good vantage lines…_ Jim gestured to Darragh and moved around to approach the right entrance. “Hostage appears to be injured and restrained; no clear shot yet.”

“Keep me informed.” Jim could feel his rage fighting the suppressants but he was still slowed–why had he taken the suppressants, why?  _Because Mycroft needs you to THINK, Jim, not just run in and get shot._

“Ah…” Sebastian’s voice hesitated–he never hesitated on the job– “I still don’t have a clear shot, and…Jimmy it looks like rape… do I take it?”

Jim HATED having to be sensible–Hated it. “Mycroft will survive it when I kill his… rapist: he might not survive the shot.  Hold your fire until you have a clean shot on Mags.”  _We were damn near Bonded already, would Mags even be able to Bond him?  It doesn’t matter–Mycroft’s safety comes first_.

He let Darragh take care of the guard on the door and moved through the house– _Thank God and Janine we had the blueprints._

“Boss! Sherlock and Watson just came in, armed!”  Jim just had a moment to start breathing when Sebastian added, “They’re both injured–Sherlock has the gun… and… I have the microphone set up:  they’re getting Mags out of the way.”

Jim started to say to take the shot when a hit came out of nowhere into his shoulder.  _Alpha! Full strength!_ … and then he was fighting for his life against an Alpha who most certainly had NOT taken suppressants. He wasn’t as fast as Jim–at full– but far stronger, and Jim was slowed… he took a shot to the solar plexus that might have killed him if he hadn’t managed to roll with it. The man spun away because Darragh had come in with a knife and gotten a hamstring. _Slowing him down, good!_ Jim saw the blow heading for Darragh’s throat and pushed off the floor into the Alpha’s knees: the blow glanced off Darragh’s chest instead of hitting full force–Darragh gurgled and went down. Jim grabbed Darragh’s knife as it skittered and spun across the floor and rolled out of the way of the Alpha’s blow…and threw the knife.

“…are… you… alright… sir?” Darragh was panting and holding his chest.

“Fucking fine.” He found the earpiece and activated the microphone, “Darragh needs medical–what’s the situation?!”

“Get in there and give me direction! I have Mags under the scope–situation stable.”

Jim staggered to his feet and went on–it was only a short distance to the room: they’d been so close… was Mycroft alright?

“I’m much too valuable for anyone to just shoot me!” Magnussen was talking, “And if I die my information is released–no one wants that!  The Prime Minister, your colleagues… they won’t give that order.”

Mycroft and Sherlock were near a chair–Mycroft spoke up. “Ah… you misunderstand: none of the governmental people likely would give that order, but that sniper works for my Alpha, and I assure you, my Alpha will.”

 _‘My Alpha’… he said that… in front of everyone…_ Jim felt his heart lurch in his chest and tried to convince himself it was residual from getting hit… _and he didn’t sound too hurt…but shaken… and weak…_

“Your… Alpha?” Sherlock sounded stunned. “You Bonded? But…”

“Officially? Not yet.” Mycroft began to say and then he curled into a ball and cried.  Jim was moving before he could think– _My Omega, hurt… and he smelled… good, but wrong… sick…_ Jim forced himself to stop– _Mycroft was in no shape, and if I lose my head Sherlock would react as an Alpha in defense…_

“I can offer–” Magnussen was saying something again–Jim couldn’t stand it one more fucking minute.

He moved into the room being careful not to interrupt Sebie’s line of sight. “There is nothing you have to offer, Mags, that isn’t outweighed by my Omega being harmed.”

“James…” Mycroft cried out for him and Jim looked at him–Heat, but … _god DAMN how much did Mags give him?_ he was dripping sweat and shaking–he smelled like heaven and  sick at the same time _: he needs a hospital._

“Jim?!” Sherlock’s voice was stunned and he was still armed–he smelled and sounded on the edge of going feral: Jim moved more slowly.

“Oh, God, we had to add another lunatic to the mix?” _oh, right, Watson._

“Not how I wanted to have the introduction to the family,” James said carefully, keeping his hands in sight as he walked into Mycroft’s line of sight, “But this was a bit of an emergency.”  He didn’t come any closer. “Mycroft?  Are you alright?”

“Sick… whatever he gave me is… my Heat is hitting me like a bad flu.”

James could tell–he looked horrible “How many pieces would you like him in darling?”

“Darling?!”  Sherlock and John and Magnussen almost all at once.

“Right now I don’t care… I just want my Alpha.”

 _I want my Omega._ “You’re half out of your head with Heat inducers, Mycroft–and I don’t trust myself to get any closer.” _You need a hospital_ , he kept repeating to himself, _not sex, no matter how you smell._

“You… YOU are the mystery Alpha? James? Jim?!” Sherlock was sputtering.

Jim winced, “Don’t get jealous, Sherly–we really never would have worked out… and… your brother and I are much better suited.” He meant to go on but Magnussen chose that moment to try to bolt.  What he was trying to do wasn’t clear, but Sebastian made the call to drop the target to his leg. Good shot, too–you could see bone fragments. He screamed very nicely.

Mycroft reached up and pulled Sherlock’s hand–and his gun– back down. “Yes…   that’s James… my Alpha.”

“Mags…” Jim wanted to go hold Mycroft but Sherlock was in full defensive mode protecting a family Omega, so he walked over to Magnussen and kicked him in the uninjured leg instead. “I put up with you because there was information about me I didn’t want getting out… but amazingly enough?  I don’t give a damn anymore.”

Mags was whimpering about his leg and going shaky and pale, but still tried to threaten him, “It will all go public!”

Mycroft was gritting his teeth and asked, “Cameras?”

Jim gave him a reassuring smile. “Looped, or erased, or otherwise not a problem, Mycroft, your PA assures me she has that all handled–she called me when she couldn’t reach your brother.”

“Then just shoot him… have him shot… and we all need to get out of here so we can… what was it you suggested? Blame it on someone else?”  He pulled himself to his feet using Sherlock as a brace.

Jim nodded and looked at Watson. “Heat inducing chemicals–especially given Mags probably double dosed him– can be risky… he’ll need a secure hospital and… Beta Doctors and guards.” _Yes, I know you want to kill me, but you have a patient to take care of._

Magnussen tried to move and Jim kicked him again–with enthusiasm.

Watson was glaring at everyone and– _do all military people share the same threats?_ –accidentally quoted Sebastian: “Oh we will be having some WORDS about this!”

“I have no doubt.” Mycroft was shivering against his brother–who still seemed stunned. “I want nothing more right now than to have you take me home, James.”

James chuckled, “And I want to rip Mags limb from limb and then have my reward, Mycroft–but you need medical.”  He popped a bit of gum in his mouth and moved quickly away from Magnusson. Rather reluctantly he gave the kill order– _it was too fast for the bastard_.  Sebie’s shot was perfection  and the blood spatter was like a red halo on the rug–Jim wanted it framed but could only hope Sebastian had the cameras going.

“Pretty!” Jim sighed and then keeping his eyes slightly averted spoke to Sherlock, “Take care of Mycroft, Sherly, he needs a hospital, and you and John need to get out of here with him while–what flower is she today?– and I make this look like a terror attack or something.”

Mycroft sounded almost normal for a moment as he said, “It’s ‘O’ today... something about a Rose variety name…”  And then Mycroft was locking his jaw closed and crying.

Jim snarled and balled his fists until they hurt: he managed to get out, “Get my Omega to SAFETY, Sherlock!”

Sherlock broke out of his shock enough to start moving Mycroft away–he was injured enough to need Watson’s help–gunshot wound judging from the blood seeping through– and Watson had injured his hands and arm.

“Sniper one,” Jim finally relaxed once Mycroft was out of sight, “Start clean up.”  Some guard with an injured hand–forgotten in all the chaos–started edging toward the door. “Stop RIGHT there…”Jim snapped: he stopped.

“Oh good, you have some sense.”

“I had to shoot the gun out of his hand, Boss, before it got messy.” Sebastian said into his ear, “He mostly stood down since then.”

Jim walked up to him stiffly and backed the man into the wall, “Now… I could take out all my frustrations and peel you apart, since Mags is oh so inconveniently dead, or you could be useful… which will it be?”

“Uh… useful?”

“You don’t sound sure, how about if I just take a few nerves out of you with my knife, you don’t need them all…”

“Useful! Definitely useful!”

“Magnussen kidnapped Mycroft–you were worried about it but didn’t know what to do, and weren’t sure who he was anyway so you just stood guard outside the room like you were told to.  You heard a lot of people speaking some Slavic language you don’t know, but you’re sure it sounded Slavic–Mags has had those types over before, I know– and then a group of SIS broke in and Sherlock, John, and Mycroft” he pointed to where they had been, “got taken out by medical and you got arrested.”  He smiled and leaned in and drew a finger down the man’s buttons very slowly, “No one else was ever here, of course–certainly not me.”

“Yes, sir… I mean no sir, I mean–”

“If that’s the story you stick to, then after the court cases and so on settle out you can retire to someplace FAR away and live out a nice long life with all your fingers, toes, and a tongue… won’t that be nice?”

“Yes… yes sir…”

One of his men came in supporting Darragh. “Are we burning the place or…?”

“Careful fast search for any of his blackmail materials–don’t leave traces.” Jim looked at Darragh, “You stay with me.”

“Not good for much…” Darragh collapsed gratefully on the sofa.

“Can you still shoot?”

“Yeah?”

“Good enough.”

He called Jane and started building the cover story: Mags kidnapping and drugging Mycroft –as he had– but add in some suspected terrorists he was working with to muddle any traces of Jim’s men. Sherlock and John broke out to rescue Mycroft–true– and there was a gun fight between the terrorists and the SIS response team–the terrorists probably shot Mags to keep him from talking, but fog of war you know…

Eventually Sebastian picked the phone out of his hand, “Mister Moriarty needs to get to medical himself: he can call you later.” And hung up.

“I’m FINE!” Jim snapped.

“Uh huh, sure you are.” He leaned in and quietly said, “Jimmy, you can ‘humor me’ and walk out now, or I pick you up and put you over my shoulder in front of everyone–your call.”

Jim glared at him–Sebastian stared back levelly. “Fine! You’re being over cautious, but we can take Darragh to medical.”

“Right.” Sebastian rolled his eyes.

It took far longer  to get the two of them to the front door–admittedly partly because Jim was determined not to show weakness in front of his men and therefore couldn’t lean on Sebastian–but the driver brought the car to the front door and they got in.

“where–” the driver started.

“Medical One–step on it.” Sebastian said as soon as the door closed.  He got on the phone and started calling their medical staff… Jim…lost track of time… but soon enough they were in the underground garage and It was sit in a stupid wheelchair or Sebastian was threatening to carry him–at least Darragh was in a wheelchair too.

“I’m FINE!”

“Then why aren’t you using your arm?!” Sebastian snapped back

“Oh, that… I think the bastard Alpha dislocated my shoulder–I guess it could be broken.”

Sebastian cursed his ancestry back five generations in Gaelic.

“Hey, some of those are your ancestors too!”

“Well I inherited SOME stupidity! I work for you voluntarily!”

Darragh muttered, “Can I get someone to look at my chest, give me some of the fun drugs and a pretty nurse, and have you two go yell at each other like an old married couple somewhere else?

Sebastian turned on him even as the medical people were peeling off his shirt, “You KNEW Mycroft was an Omega!?”

“I knew he was all but Bonded to an Omega, and that’s why the Omega in Heat didn’t affect him much–he hadn’t taken a suppressant: he told me all that after I got off the phone with you. He said he was going to tell you when he got back… I had no idea the lunatic was seeing Mycroft Holmes!”  The developing bruises across his chest were spectacular.

“We’ll need X rays, and he’ll need a heart monitor overnight…” the medic said calmly, “Now you, sir.”

“Just pop my shoulder back in and I’ll be dandy.”

“X rays… full exam… you know the drill.” Sebastian nodded at him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You work for me, not him!” Jim protested.

Sebastian glared at him and gave him a shot–hopefully a pain shot so they could put his arm back in and he could go check on Mycroft. “Yes, yes he does…” _Sebastian was counting? Why was he counting?_  “Until you’re unconscious or something… after all I am the second in command, right Boss?”

Jim couldn’t open his eyes… _Sedative, not a pain shot…Bastard… he deserves a bonus…._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am having serious computer issues, so posted this as so as i got the laptop to boot up enough to copy the document. i will add title and music when i can


	10. The Very Thought Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft recovering in the hospital, Jim recovering as well... this chapter is a longish one, and parallels the end of "broken time". There will be a sequel.
> 
> Trigger Warning: there is some frank discussion of Mycroft's assault by Magnussen, and worries about consequences. It works out.

Jim woke up as he usually did: suddenly and trying to go for a weapon. “OooowWWww!”  His shoulder and stomach had just let him know that was a terrible idea.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Sebastian sounded sarcastic and annoyed–Jim relaxed: that meant nothing serious was wrong.

“Mycroft?” He had meant to ask about his people first–oh well.

“Sedated heavily in the hospital while they get that shit out of him.”

“Our people?”

“Darragh has a cracked sternum, but should heal up fine according to the doctors; we had one of our guys get shot–he may not be combat capable at the levels we need anymore, so I was planning to put him on other duties; a few other minor injuries.”

Jim opened his eyes blearily, “Sherlock and wassisface?”

“Watson.” Sebastian snorted.

“Wassisface, like I said.  How are they?”

“Sherlock wouldn’t get his injuries treated until Jane kicked him out and damn near tranqed him–then they got him in and treated the gunshot and stuff. I don’t have all the details, but I understand he’s driving the hospital staff bonkers and they will be releasing him to home care to save their sanity.”

Jim laughed, and then regretted that. “Ow… so… how badly hurt am I?”

“The shoulder is broken as well as dislocated–Doc says ‘you Alphas heal fast, so’ and then he made vague muttering noises ending up with ‘light duty for as long as you can keep him down, then physical therapy–he’ll probably be lying and saying he’s fine within days’ which I know better than so I won’t believe it.”

Jim made faces, “At least it’s my right arm… so… the pain in my torso?”

“You got hit in the stomach and bruised a LOT including bruised internal organs… had some internal bleeding and they debated surgery but finally just did a lot of medical shit I don’t understand and said ‘Alphas’ a lot.  The nurse translated for me: if you were not an Alpha you wouldn’t have lived to get to medical– given that you are an Alpha you will fully recover IF you don’t get hit again and take it easy for the next few weeks.”  Sebastian glared at him. “You… almost… died.”

“Because I went up against an Alpha while I was on suppressants.”

“Because you went charging in to rescue your Omega instead of staying out of it and letting our snipers and–”

“Darragh would have died if I wasn’t there with him.”

“Someone ELSE would have gone in with him.”

Jim had to acknowledge that but, “I would never have been able to sit back and watch that, Sebie.”

“…no, no you wouldn’t have.” Sebastian sighed, “And you should be damn glad you didn’t have to see it through the scope–it looked bad.”

“Mycroft… will be ok? Really?” Jim reached up and grabbed Sebastian’s arm.

Sebastian sat down on the edge of the bed. “They say so.  Jane thinks so…” Sebastian sighed and added reluctantly, “His doctors want his Alpha to come in–they think he’ll sleep better.”

Jim immediately tried to get up.

“Stop it!  We’ll get the medical people to clear you and put you in a wheelchair and take you over, alright?”

Jim started to argue but Sebastian just glared at him, “You owe me SO damn much right now Jimmy, you have no bloody clue… so you are gonna shut up and follow orders for once or I will bloody well have them keep YOU sedated.”

“… I have to get to him…”

“And you will, but only if you do it my way! I’m not joking with you, Jimmy!”

“…alright… just… He’s hurt…”

“And so are you, ya bleedin’ thick!”

“If I was able to get out of bed I’d rip you up for that…”

“If you were able to get out of bed I wouldn’t be calling you that, would I?” Sebastian had that overly sweet tone that meant he was mad as fuck.

Jim looked around the room and finally at the IV line in his arm, “…sorry.”

“What’s that? I don’t think I could hear you?”

“I said I’m SORRY you overbearing wanna be mammy!”

“Good.” Sebastian snorted, “I’ll get you set up to be transported to Mycroft’s hospital, and then while we’re getting ready you can tell me exactly when, and how, you found out he was an Omega–and why you didn’t tell me!”

…

By the time they got to Mycroft’s wing in the hospital Sebastian was being deadly quiet and Jim was being as small as possible in his wheelchair.

Mycroft’s PA came walking up briskly and then raised an eyebrow, “You look worse than you did in interrogation.”

Sebastian snapped, “Normally I’d take you down for even mentioning that, but the little shite deserves it.”

Her other eyebrow went up, “Sniper Sebastian? I recognize your voice, but…”

Jim sighed, “Jane? Meet Sebastian–my cousin Sebastian: Sebastian meet Jane– Jane is probably going by Rose today…”

She winced, “I didn’t have time to manage anything clever: it will be Silene in a few hours.”

“Can we have this discussion someplace other than the hallway?” Jim looked around cautiously, but saw no one.

“I moved all the guards to the access points after you came in–too many leaks, as you know.  I trust them not to let an assassin in or out, but I don’t trust them with information that might be viewed as being in British interests.”  She nodded firmly, “The hallway is as secure as anyplace.”

“Sebie is pissed at me because I never told him Mycroft was an Omega–I was GOING to introduce him to Mycroft properly at The Magpie, but then Mags happened.”

She stopped, “You… didn’t?”

“No.  If… it was his secret, not mine.”

Sebastian snapped, “And how can I look after the eedjit if he doesn’t tell me anything important!”

“You knew it was Mycroft…” Jim protested.

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose, “wonderful… charming… why are all the smart people such idiots…” she glared at Jim, “Understand I would far prefer to keep you away from him until he’s healed, but the doctors think  you will be beneficial.  He is at best semi-conscious: he has moments of lucidity and then goes back to sleep and will not remember it when he wakes up again.”

“Red heads and anesthesia?” Jim glanced at Sebastian.

“No, or not only that: it’s a common side effect of the sedative they’re using.  It is one of the few sedatives that is not going to be a problem with the Heat inducers coming out of his system.” She waved them in, “And I will want to talk to you, Mister… Sebastian.”

Jim mostly had eyes for Mycroft, sitting up in a hospital bed: he looked like hell but his eyes were open and he smiled when he saw them.

“James… you… you’re hurt? You weren’t hurt before…?”

“Nothing serious, darling, but my cousin Sebie is a worry wart.” Jim reached out and took his hand. “How are you feeling? That bruise looks painful.”

“Bruise?” Mycroft looked vaguely puzzled and then his eyes tracked to Sebastian, “Cousin?  The sniper at the bar… oh…” he smiled lopsidedly at Sebastian, “Oh…thank you: excellent shooting.”

“Hmm.” Sebastian seemed to soften up just a bit, “It’s what I do. My other cousin was backing Jim up coming in, but he’s not able to get out of bed yet, being a Beta like most of the family.”

“Sometimes being anything else… isn’t very good for you.” Mycroft sighed, winced, and lay back. “Please don’t leave, James…”

“I’m not going anywhere, darling, although those two are going to step out and give us some privacy.”

“…An illusion in any hospital…”  he dozed back off.

Jim looked over his shoulder at the two of them, “At least he doesn’t smell like he did before…”

Jane nodded slowly, “His blood tests have been improving… I’ll send in the specialist to talk to you.” She frowned, “You DO know that he called Magnussen on his blackmail because he thought it might permit him to resign to Bond with you…”

“What?” Sebastian said but Jim’s mind suddenly saw the pattern, “Oh…no… no he never said he was being blackmailed by Mags… just… barely hinted that he had to deal with the man–I told him he was dangerous… Mags was actively blackmailing him?”

“Over his being an Omega, yes.” Jane’s expression got less guarded, “I couldn’t find any trace of him TELLING you in his phone records, but… he did talk about the two of you meeting to remove him… you both did.”

“I had no idea…” Jim felt like crying for the first time in far too many years, and leaned into Mycroft’s hand. “I would have come home earlier… I would have shot the bastard when he asked me about Mycroft… I just thought…”

Sebastian pulled him upright. “Don’t bend like that; you’ll put pressure on your injuries… Damn it, Jimmy… if the man won’t tell you he’s in trouble, how can you be held to account for it?!”

“I should have realized… I knew what Mags was like… I should have known…”

Mycroft’s eyes tried to open and he was whimpering, “No… no… I want my Alpha…”

“I’m here, Mycroft.” Jim picked up his hand and licked his palm, and then pressed Mycroft’s palm against his cheek. “I’m here, you’re safe.” Mycroft relaxed slowly and his breathing evened out.

Jane watched quietly and then said, “I’ll go get the doctor…”

…

The doctor turned out to be one of the handful of Omega specialists with this level of security clearance–he’d been Mycroft’s Omega specialist for years. 

“So you’re the Alpha that managed to get past Mister Holmes’ issues…?” he shook his head, “I must admit I never expected it to happen.”

“I never expected an Omega to get past MY issues, doctor,” Jim answered, “Now what can I do to help.”

“Be there.  Continue with whatever level of contact you’ve had–within reason for his injuries” the doctor looked Jim over, “and yours.”

“Mostly kissing or licking his palm, holding hands, and… a single rather dry kiss on the lips.” Jim sighed, “He’s rather shy, and I didn’t want to force the issue or scare him off–we went dancing, and we shared food.”

“That’s IT?” the doctor looked very dubious.

Jane nodded, “That seems to be it, doctor, and yet they were exhibiting signs of being Bonded...”

Sebastian spoke up, “Jim had an Omega in Heat thrown at him on his business trip–he ignored them even when two of his guards went feral.”

“I didn’t ignore them, she just smelled wrong,” Jim muttered and brought Mycroft’s hand back up to kiss his fingers.

“That’s…er… unusual… to exhibit Bonding traits with just…”

“We are inordinately compatible.” Jim thought back with a smile to wicked comments at a masked ball, and mathematics, and fish and chips.

“well…” the doctor sighed and went on, “His blood markers also showed a number of signatures indicative of Bonding… so… given that, an assault on a BONDED Omega is best treated by their Alpha proving they are not going to be abandoned–assuming they aren’t.”

Jim snorted. “If he still wants me–and he did, because he called me his Alpha– then I’m not going anywhere.”

“Some Alpha’s get… upset… about–”

“Mycroft was drugged and raped– it’s not like he cheated on me.” Jim looked firmly at the doctor, and then at Jane. “Whatever the consequences; we will deal with it together.  I didn’t ask: did it get far enough to be concerned about pregnancy?”

Sebastian winced, “Maybe?”

Jane calmly answered, “It was a distant possibility–but the pregnancy tests came up negative.”

The doctor looked warily at Mycroft, “He was… upset over the possibility when he regained consciousness.  However either the very minimal risk wasn’t enough, or… the amount of heat inducing chemicals in his system didn’t permit.”

Jim kissed his fingers again. “Mycroft, love, it wouldn’t matter–even if you had somehow gotten pregnant, I’m sure proper raising would have had them take after you, not him… but you aren’t.”

“He’s asleep–” the doctor startled and looked at the monitors.

“No he isn’t.” Jim looked amused and squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “He woke up partway through the doctor talking.”

Mycroft opened his eyes, “You could tell, of course…”

Jim nodded. “You woke up… about when Sebastian was talking about that poor drugged Omega.”

“Drugged?” Mycroft tracked over at Sebastian, “Oh… he’s… he’s the cousin who dragged you away?  I thought that was years ago?  And he’s… he’s the sniper… oh…” Mycroft looked solemnly at Sebastian, “Excellent shooting.”

“You said that already?”

The doctor coughed, “He isn’t forming a lot of long term memories…”

“I’m not?” Mycroft frowned, “Is that permanent?”

“Ah, no… a side effect of some of the sedatives we had to use, given the Heat inducers–we can’t use the usual sedatives.”

Mycroft nodded slowly, “Quite right… too many interactions…” he smiled at Jim, “You didn’t think she smelled nice this time?”

“No… she wasn’t MY Omega.” Jim leaned over carefully and kissed him. “You aren’t getting rid of me, Mycroft, not unless you want to… just sleep: I’ll be here.”

…

They made him go back for his own medical far too often.  Jim made a point of leaving his shirt or something, so that Jane could assure him that Jim had been here, recently, and wasn’t going to run off.  Over time Mycroft stayed awake longer, and if he didn’t exactly remember previous conversations, he had less anxiety of Jim leaving.

…

Jim had come to see Mycroft straight from Physical Therapy–and that man was EVIL, but very good at it– and had to wait until Sherlock and John left before he could go in.

“All clear?”

“James!” Mycroft was sitting up a bit, and the swelling had settled, even if the bruising hadn’t. “You… Sherlock said you were here before…?”

“Yes, darling, your memory is just a bit spotty from the drugs.” Jim came over and kissed him. “I’m not that easy to scare off.”

“Sherlock said that… less politely.” Mycroft smiled at him and then frowned, “You’re hurt?”

“I got a bit banged around by some of Magnussen’s guards–nothing to worry about–and just came from–”

“Physical therapy, which means it IS something to worry about!”

“Dislocated my shoulder…” Jim pulled out the gift he had brought to distract him, “I brought caviar!”

Mycroft looked dubious.

“And since we can’t give you any alcohol I brought tea.”

“How badly hurt were you, James?”

“Not as badly as you were.”

“You…you know I can’t actually tell if you’re lying? That’s annoying.”

Jim stuck out his tongue and set them both up with tea and caviar. “So in the interest of having something better to talk about than hospitals and doctors…” he showed Mycroft the latest paper on instructing students in abstract mathematics.

Somehow that discussion led into the calculations for various useful measurements…

James confessed to calculating ratios of ‘absolute boring’… “Like absolute zero only less interesting.” He ended up trying to explain it to Mycroft, and eventually Mycroft told him a somewhat less than understandable anecdote about measuring tea… which led into a quite spirited discussion of tea, proper varieties, proper adulterants, and why Americans were wrong to put lemon in black tea…

Mycroft fell asleep part way through, which didn’t surprise him given how jumpy the anecdote had been, but he’d been awake much longer this time.

…

Finally the day came that his hormone levels looked normal and he had could be taken off the sedatives entirely: the next time he woke up he would remember… well he would remember going forward, even if not all the prior time in the hospital.  Jim had dressed as well as he could–he was feeling much better anyway–and wouldn’t hear of wearing the sling.

“I don’t want him alarmed.  He won’t have all the sedatives in his system to blunt the worry.”

“Right…” Sebastian just shook his head.  Mycroft repeatedly being very grateful and impressed at his shooting had mostly won the man over. “I’ll beep you before Sherlock gets back–I doubt now is a good time for a reunion.”

“Not even slightly.” Jim sighed; they would have to get there eventually, but not today. He waited for Mycroft to wake up.

Mycroft smiled faintly as he started to wake up, but then something distressed him and he whimpered.

“Mycroft?  It’s alright…” Jim took his hand carefully.

Mycroft opened his eyes. “James?”

“You are in the hospital, Mycroft,” Jim had been rehearsing the most important information–the most calming information. “And everyone worth bothering with will be okay.”

Mycroft closed his hand over Jim’s hand and tried to move… “Ah… not…” he looked at his IV lines and around the room slowly. “How badly hurt was I? What happened?  Is Sherlock alright?” then after a blink… “YOU are alright, aren’t you? I didn’t see any sign you were hurt…”

 _Oh good, you don’t remember_. “My main source of pain was seeing you hurt and having to restrain myself,” Jim leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You have a spectacular bruise, though…”

“Do I?  I remember him hitting me after I threw up on him…”

Jim took a deep breath and tried to stay calm despite feeling horrible. “I wish I’d been able to do worse than kick him, darling.  I do hope you understand that…”

“What story do I need to back up?” Mycroft asked, delightfully practical as always.

“Actually we’re staying close to the truth–novel, I know. Officially your terribly clever PA got the panic alert as she actually did,” Jim shrugged carefully, “He drugged and kidnapped you… after kidnapping Sherlock and John.  The only serious change to the story is that I was never there, and it wasn’t my sniper…”

Mycroft nodded, “As long as the cameras were gotten to in time… and any witnesses dealt with…”

“The ONLY witness­ other than Sherlock and John to anything troublesome was Mags’ guard with the gun. After a brief discussion of the realities of life he has agreed to completely back our version of the story–whatever it was– in exchange for a limited sentence and retiring somewhere far, far away.” Jim leaned forward and murmured to Mycroft, “I may have elaborated on the alternatives a touch…”

“I can imagine…” Mycroft gave him that tiny wicked smirk he had become smitten with.

Mycroft seemed a bit thirsty so Jim got him a drink and held the cup so he could sip from the straw. “How badly hurt was Sherlock?” Mycroft asked worriedly. “The more I remember the more concerning that is…”

“Well… he’s not really fantastic at the self-preservation thing, is he?” Jim patted his hand and chuckled, “It’s one of the reasons I had to step back and let them take you to the hospital… they both needed to get here too.  John injured his hands getting loose, and Sherly was shot– luckily not anyplace too important– but he didn’t even get that treated until your PA was here…”

Jim considered, “truthfully I suspect she had to threaten him to get him to leave your room.  He was kept for observation for a few days and then was dragged home by John and Mrs. Hudson.”

“A few days?  How long has it been?!”

“Almost a week: your PA is on the letter U, I believe.”

“Ursinia?”

“Uva Ursi… She’s just using Uva.”

“I was unconscious for a week?” Mycroft quite correctly looked dubious.

“Only for a day or two. You were kept sedated until the Heat chemicals worked their way through your system– Mags had given you far too much–after that you’ve been… well semi-awake?  I doubt you remember much of it.” He couldn’t help but smile fondly at Mycroft, “We had a delightful conversation about mathematics at one point which devolved somehow into a discussion of tea before you fell asleep mid-sentence.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t–”

“Perfectly alright: it’s all Mags fault anyway.” He stroked Mycroft’s fingers, reassuring himself– _If I had lost him..._

 “Given how horrible I felt I expect so…” Mycroft looked worriedly at Jim and added, “The only feeling he ever caused in me was disgust…and nausea.”

“I felt like that about him on a good day…” Jim didn’t think he should get back on the topic of chemically induced lust–Mycroft tended to get guilt stricken–so he changed the subject. “I could become fond of your PA, you know: she’s quite fierce, and surprisingly loyal.”

“Is she?  She’s one of my best analysts, of course…” Mycroft allowed himself to be diverted only momentarily and then asked, “So what now, James?  I… You’re my Alpha: you have been…”

“You called me that in front of them you know.” Jim beamed at him, “that’s why I went ahead and announced you were my Omega…”

“Am I?” Mycroft was getting anxious again. “I… I don’t think I could deal with… there must be some way…”

“Don’t fret,” Jim brought up his other hand and stroked his hair back–It brought back the memory of the first time, with Mycroft in unexpected Heat and Jim trying  to keep his feet under him.

Jim chuckled, “Did you know that the infamous Jim Moriarty had a brother? Looks very much like him, really–never involved in his criminal business though.  James Richard Moriarty is a perfectly respectable fellow–well, for an actor.  He had a children’s show called ‘the stationmaster’ and has been in the usual bit parts under a few stage names.  His current stage name is Richard Brook, and you met him looking into Moriarty’s business…”

“Richard… Brook?  Reichenbach?” Mycroft snorted, “A bit obvious don’t you think?”

“Well… yes?  But it was already a well-established identity; I just had to polish it up a bit…”

“Do I want to know why?”

“No.” _Absolutely not–never._

“Tell me sometime when I feel less like I’m recovering from the flu.”

“Of course…” Jim lied–luckily his watch started beeping at that moment. “Ah, and that would be my cue to depart.”

“I… yes of course.” Mycroft looked unhappy but put a brave face on it. “Do thank your bartender for me–those were excellent shots.”

Jim blinked– _oh yes, he didn’t remember meeting him_ – and then grinned when he realized what Mycroft had SAID. “Why Mycroft, did you just make a PUN?”

“It was an attempt, yes.” Mycroft smiled and let go of his hand.

Jim blew a kiss at him and slipped out the door: he just barely managed to duck into an empty room–all the surrounding rooms were empty for security– before Sherlock and John came by.  Once they were in Mycroft’s room he slipped out.

Jane was waiting with Sebastian, “Thought you might have been caught.” Sebastian nodded at him and helped him back in his sling.

“Had to duck out of sight, that’s all.  He sounds so much better!” Jim sighed, “He’s more anxious, of course, without the sedatives in his system.”

Jane–Uva– nodded. “I will go bring him up to speed on current affairs–one hopes the last time I will have to do so– and make sure he gets some rest.  Tomorrow will be the battery of psychological tests to verify his memory is back…”

“I have to go be tortured by the Physical Therapists again,” Jim sighed and then added firmly, “And I’ll be back tonight.”  He grinned at Sebastian, “The doctor did say to feed him–we can bring fish and chips!”

…

As proof he wasn’t being drugged into somnolence; Mycroft woke up even as Jim was settling into the chair by his bed.

“How kind of you, James…” He nodded at the take out box.

“Well… we did have a date at the Magpie to talk about slime removal…”

Mycroft sighed sadly, “Got it a bit backwards I see.”

Jim agreed but waved a hand, “Fairy tales you know… they’re always a bit odd.”

“Fairy tales?”

“Once upon a time there was a monster who was endangering the kingdom, and the brave and reckless hero prince was clearly going to get himself killed charging at it, so his older brother–the crown prince– and a flower maiden resolved to deal with it themselves. Unfortunately the monster had the two brothers–oh yes and a knight the hero had along for an audience– kidnapped and taken to a distant castle.  What he didn’t know was that the crown prince had made an alliance with a much more powerful monster…”

“Monsters bring fish and chips to hospital beds?” Mycroft teased, “And don’t monsters usually end up with PrincESSes?”

 _Pfft_! “Well, ordinary monsters perhaps: I’m an extraordinary one.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster, but you are certainly extraordinary.”

“I think you may still be a bit delusional, but that’s sweet.” Jim smiled, “Anyway… the crown prince basically rescued himself–with a bit of help from his princely brother and the knight– but might have been badly hurt in the process.  Luckily the allied monster showed up in time to help out…” he dropped the jovial tone, “I am truly sorry I didn’t get there earlier.”

Mycroft just looked amused, “It was more dramatic that way. So how does your fairy tale end?”

“Well, with the usual ending of course!  They always skip the boring parts where the reports get written and the other nobles whine about everything. The Crown Prince marries the Monster–who is revealed to be a Prince of course, at least as far as anyone can prove–and everyone lives happily ever after.”

Mycroft laughed, “Skipping the reports? Definitely a fairy tale; although I must have missed the part where they had fish and chips.”

Jim kissed him briefly before feeding him the next bite. “It sounds too common, they always dress it up with state dinners and grand balls and things, but really… most of those state dinners aren’t worth a good plate of fish and chips.”

“Most of the princes aren’t worth a monster–or a good old fashioned villain.” Mycroft said softly.

“You’ll turn my head, you know.” Jim kissed the remnants of fish and chips off Mycroft’s fingers.

“You’re staying?  You really are? It’s not… not just humoring me while I’m ill?”

“Ever after means ever after, Mycroft.” Jim said firmly and then sighed, “You really, really, need to talk to someone about your self-esteem issues.”

“Pot, kettle…”

“My issues aren’t THAT bad…”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow in an evocative fashion–somehow conveying complete disbelief.

 _Hmph!“_ You’re worse than Sebastian, you know.”

“Who?”

“My bartending sniper–who is also the cousin I mentioned.  You’ve met him a couple of times but you were still a bit drugged… he’s decided you are a tolerable in-law after all.”

Mycroft stared at him for a bit, “It’s very unsettling to not remember things.”

Jim squeezed his hand. “I would expect so… on the plus side he hasn’t met John or Sherlock, and I’ve managed to avoid them the entire time, so when we all have to sit down and talk about it for the first time, you get to remember it!”

Mycroft groaned, “I take it back…

“Nope, no take backs–you’re stuck with me.”

“That, I would not wish to take back.” Mycroft brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed them. “Happily ever after–or at least… not boring.”

“Never Boring, Darling…” he kissed Mycroft gently over their joined hands, “you are ANYTHING but boring…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore these two even if this is far "fluffier" than their usual pairing. I will write a sequel eventually, because eventually they have to settle things with John and Sherlock, but "Happily ever after means happily ever after" so don't fret, darlings.
> 
> Have Nat 'King' Cole singing The Very thought of you: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HcRQiNHrsoQ

**Author's Note:**

> Title from George and Ira Gershwin's song. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Got_Rhythm  
> Ella Fitzgerald singing "I got Rythm": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSTkz1BvrXY  
> (why yes, i was a music major, what gave it away?)
> 
> For anyone confused by the change up in Sebastian Moran: in THIS world he is Eoin (John) Sebastian Moran and Jim's (not close) cousin. yes they are related. When Sebastian talks about his cousin Darragh, he is speaking about a cousin on the other side of the family from Jim, so Darragh and Sebastian are close cousins, but Darragh is only really related by marriage to Jim.


End file.
